Harry Potter - A new year, a new adventure
by LittleMaggie
Summary: year 5 - something's up with Charlie W, an odd girl befriends Cho, HERMIONE AND HARRY!,has Voldemort. R&R, *COMPLETED* I HAVE FIXED ORDER OF CHAPTERS! NEW AND IMPROVED! ~Thank you all who reviewed!~
1. The First day

Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything else that J.K. Rowling or Warner Brothers or what not else had done. I simply made up my own plot for this story. :) My apologies to the author if I mess this up!!  
  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
1 First Day  
  
  
  
A searing, red-hot pain flashed through Harry's scar, a pain he had never before felt. It had been a similar pain before, but now it was absolutely awful. His eyes flew open, the simple bedroom of his coming into view, the ratty white sheets fluttered off of him as he sat up.  
  
Harry's fingers skimmed the scar on his forehead, the ridge of it bumpy and then smooth, like the engraved notes on the desks of students in Potions class. He sighed. The pain was gone, as quick as it had come.  
  
The problem with his scar's burning pain was not that it hurt - frankly, it hurt for a very short time. But the time that it did hurt was unbearable. His eyes widened as he realized what the burning sensation could have meant.  
  
Was Voldemort preparing to attack again? Was some other great evil taking place? Had Dudley hummed in his sleep, the most painful sound and feeling of all?  
  
Harry smiled to himself. Any minute now, Dudley would thunder down the steps, dust showering Harry from the dry, crusty ceiling. Dudley practically rattled the house when he walked.  
  
The bleak rays of light of the rising sun had already created patches of light on his plain bedspread.  
  
" Dudleykins?" Aunt Petunia shouted sweetly from the kitchen.  
  
So I'm the last awake again, Harry thought. He stood up, stretching, and his hand brushed the shelf hanging over his bed. Harry took a glance at it from the corner of his eye. On it was a row of birthday gifts, all of them almost on time, just a day or two early. They were: a book from Hermione, something about Quidditch; a carved figurine of Harry himself on his Firebolt, trying to catch the Snitch, from Hagrid (who had recently acquired a nice sculpting and carving talent); and a few pictures from Ron. The pictures were the best - Ron and Hermione had gone to the beach, and they were mostly of Hermione in her pretty sundress, going down to her knees and fluttering awkwardly.  
  
Harry took his favorite photo off the shelf and looked at it, marveling: one of Hermione alone, sitting on the wet sand, the foam soaking the hem of her dress, a sweet smile on her face. In the picture, she was slowly turning to look at the camera, and Harry imagined her looking right at him. Hermione then smiled, and Harry felt his heart flutter.  
  
" Harry! You scum-wad! Get in here!" Uncle Vernon shouted angrily. Harry could already imagine the look on his uncle's face - his cheeks puffed out, his whole face red and blotchy, his nose wrinkled angrily.  
  
" Coming!" Harry shouted back.  
  
" Don't shout in this household!" Aunt Petunia roared. Harry rolled his eyes and placed the picture of Hermione back on the shelf, tucked gently along with the others. An image of Ron waved to him, his mouth moving in some cheery words. Mrs. Weasley laughed in the background.  
  
Harry burst out of his room, the door slamming back into the wall, a few chips of wallpaper fluttering to the ground. Harry felt a stringing of guilt in his stomach, then shrugged. He could say it was Dudley, and then Petunia and Uncle Vernon would probably thank him for scarring the wall. That's the sort of sickening parents they were.  
  
Once Harry was in the kitchen, the sight of Dudley inhaling a donut made his insides squeeze. " Save some for the world, Dud." Harry muttered under his breath. He had begun to call Dudley just Dud, a short and simple name that showed what he was - a blatant, annoying reject that wasn't accepted by his peers.  
  
" Pardon?" Dudley looked up, ready to see who spoke to him, and seeing Harry, he looked down again, saying: " So you're finally here! Make something for breakfast! I'm starving!"  
  
" I'm sure you are." Harry muttered, and then began to make a batter for pancakes.  
  
Uncle Vernon's red face turned towards Harry, and he barked out: " Make more batter! Lately you've been so scant to our dear Dudley!"  
  
" Scant?" Harry exclaimed. " He gobbled down ten pancakes yesterday, along with half a bottle of maple sugar. You call that scant?"  
  
" Don't talk back to me, boy!" Uncle Vernon's brow crinkled.  
  
" Gee, sorry." Harry poured a round shape into the pan, which Aunt Petunia had been kind enough to already circle with cooking oil - about a centimeter of it from the base of the pan, which was enough to fry a bucket of French fries, let alone a few pancakes.  
  
" There you go again, shooting your mouth off! Why can't you be more like our precious young boy?" Aunt Petunia snapped, her hand wrapping around the porky boy's shoulders, giving him a light squeeze.  
  
If I were, half of the third world countries would starve with the food amounts we'd be eating, Harry thought.  
  
" Where did he learn to be such a smart-mouthed, back-talking brat?" Uncle Vernon asked Aunt Petunia. " I'd give my right hand that it was that. that freak school of his!"  
  
" Hogwarts?" Dudley said, spitting crumbs on all the objects near him, including his mother's hand.  
  
" Never, never mention that ghastly - - PLACE - - again!" Aunt Petunia gasped out. " Dudleykins, my dearest baby, it is a cursed place! The word shouldn't even mark your mind!"  
  
" I wish our poor Dudley's childhood hadn't been so devastated by Harry. It's all your awful sister's fault! You should have driven her off to the loony bin before she brought shame into our family by passing on her crazy son!" Uncle Vernon yelled out, taking a bite of a pastry between words.  
  
Harry bit his tongue, tears coming into his eyes. If there was one thing Harry hated most of the Dursleys, it was their horrid insults to his mother and father.  
  
" Harry! Are you anywhere near done?" Dudley hissed out, his cheeks sucking into his face and then releasing as he took an angry bite of the third donut in the box before him.  
  
" Almost." Harry said, quietly, and then plopped four pancakes onto a plate from the pan. They were completely soaked in fat.  
  
Oh, how disgusting, thought Harry.  
  
" Pass it here, boy! Dudley isn't going to starve because you're so slow around here!" Aunt Petunia said, not even facing Harry.  
  
Harry nodded and brought the plate over, dropping it in front of Dudley. The fat cousin of his looked up and smiled, baring his white teeth, despite all the disgusting grime he ate all the time. "Ah, finally!" Dudley grabbed his fork and ate as fast as he could.  
  
" Enjoy." Harry whispered, and then went to fry up the next batch.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Twenty-three pancakes later, Harry went up to his room again, not even hoping to have a share of the breakfast. Instead, he took an apple from the metal bowl on the living room table, and crunching sadly, he went to sit on his bed.  
  
He took the pictures into his hands again.  
  
Now he observed the one with Ron in it. Ron's wild red hair had been blown by the wind into his eyes, and he squinted. Then, his lips formed the exact words that Harry knew he must have said, just by reading his lips: " Hermione looks pretty, eh, Harry? He, he!"  
  
" She sure does!" Harry whispered to the picture, and then peered into the background of the picture. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were discussing something very actively, and both were shaking their red heads. And then Hermione approached them, and began to say something. Ron's head moved out of the way, and he broke into a smile and winked at the camera.  
  
Fred and George had taken the pictures, and Harry was grateful. Ron had convinced them that Hermione was the one that wanted plenty of pictures of her taken, when it was really Harry who demanded it.  
  
Ron was the only person that Harry had told about how he liked Hermione more then a friend. Suddenly, the door burst open and Aunt Petunia barged in the room, throwing a letter at Harry's feet. " A letter, Harry. Seems your friends forgot how we no longer want the mail - - with the owls - - brought anywhere near us. They're to go directly to your room, through your window! Got it?"  
  
" Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry took the letter and then opened it. It was from Hermione! His heart dropped and then clanged hard inside of him as he pulled the letter out and read:  
  
" Dear Harry,  
  
How was your summer? I'm sure the Dursleys were no fun at all!  
  
It would be exquisite if you could bring with you, to Hogwarts, the  
  
book I bought for you for your birthday. Had you started reading  
  
it yet?  
  
Harry hadn't started reading it yet at all!  
  
I'm sure you'll agree with me that the protagonist is very well- done,  
  
though his motif in the beginning isn't quite lucid. In the end it all  
  
makes sense, don't give up reading it yet!  
  
My owl's been so bored lately. I bought a new one, did you  
  
hear? It's white, just like yours, and I named it Sunny. I suppose it  
  
isn't very creative, but just wait until you see how lively it is! I bet it  
  
didn't even wait at your house! It probably flew straight back and I  
  
should expect it soon.  
  
I had sent three letters already.  
  
Harry paused reading again. " Three?" He said to himself, then looked up to see if Aunt Petunia was standing there. She had gone. Harry looked back onto the letter and thought, How come I didn't get the other letters?  
  
You probably didn't get your other letters, though, since little  
  
Sunny had returned to me with them a few nights ago! I was  
  
furious. The letters were in tatters. Somehow Sunny isn't the best  
  
owl I could have acquired for myself!  
  
I asked Ron if he gave you some photos from our trip to the  
  
beach with his family. Ron looked so strange, almost defensive,  
  
and said he hadn't. So I'm sending along a picture, and I hope  
  
you don't get angry with Ron. He had been pretty strange lately,  
  
and he and his brothers wouldn't stop clicking away on their  
  
camera, and your name kept coming up.  
  
" Oh, man." Harry murmured. Ron must have told his brothers about Harry's crush on Hermione.  
  
Well, I should be off, this is pretty long anyway!  
  
With love,  
  
Hermione  
  
With love, Harry ran the words over in his mind, and then neatly folded the letter and put it back into the envelope. He pulled out the photo from the envelope and took a good look at it. It was taken a bit later then the ones Ron had sent over, and it seemed just a touch personal. Hermione was sitting under a sunset, and the camera was aiming at her back. Suddenly, she turned, and a great big smile crossed her face. Her hand shot up and waved to the camera.  
  
Harry lifted his own hand, giving a half wave, imagining that he was there. Then, he wondered if Hermione still had such soft, brown hair. She had gotten highlights; Harry could see them vividly among her darker curls.  
  
" Harry!" A shrill voice called from down the hall.  
  
" What is it, Aunt Petunia?" Harry sat up again. His 'family' never gave him any peace.  
  
" Come in here and clean up. Dudleykins accidentally spilled a whole cola bottle on the white carpet. Hurry up before it stains!" The last words came out in an angry blast.  
  
" Yes, Auntie." Harry bolted from the room and raced down the stairs, his feet thumping a bit harder then normal, for he was already becoming hot with anger.  
  
Dudley had most likely spilled the cola on purpose, just so Harry would clean up.  
  
Harry snatched a sponge and a towel from the kitchen and then raced back upstairs. He finally went into Dudley's room and saw the slowly spreading cola spill. Dudley stood over the liquid-brown mess and smiled.  
  
" Well, Potter? Clean it up!"  
  
Harry felt his ears burn with anger as he mopped up the cola, his fingers getting sticky from it. Harry then went to the bathroom, holding the sponge at a slight distance from his body, then wrung it out into the sink.  
  
Once he returned, he noticed the cola spill had grown larger instead of smaller. Dudley put on a devilish and yet 'I-didn't-do-it' face.  
  
" Dudley." Harry said, quietly.  
  
" What? You can't prove it! No! I'm telling Aunt Petunia! You can't prove it!" Dudley squealed nervously, and then rushed down the steps, saying: " Mom! Mom! Harry is blaming me for the cola spill!"  
  
" No I'm not!" Harry shouted.  
  
" Harry! How dare you lie!" Aunt Petunia yelled out. " Finish cleaning up and go to your room! No food for the rest of the day for being such a cold, twisted boy!"  
  
" Really, Petunia, my pet, he is dreadful! Simply dreadful!" Uncle Vernon said, loudly enough so Harry could hear over his own quiet crying.  
  
That night, Harry had taken a long time to get to bed. He washed his teeth four times in the bathroom, stalling so that Dudley wouldn't have the satisfaction of getting to the bathroom at his leisure. Dudley hated waiting for the bathroom, so it especially pleased Harry to know that he could use this time to make Dudley somewhat pay for his evilness.  
  
Harry finally worried that he'll wash off his teeth if he continued scrubbing and re-brushing them anymore, so he took his comb (an old, chip- toothed, black comb with bits of hair stuck in it), and ran it through his hair. He tried desperately to make it look somewhat attractive, but his hair was about as tamable as a wild stallion. Finally, Harry gave that up too.  
  
" Harry!" Dudley pounded on the door. " What's taking so long?"  
  
" Hold your horses!" Harry shouted back, and then slicked his hair back with water. It seemed to hold, and he smiled with satisfaction. Then, he noticed how having his forehead bared made his eyes look a bit huge, and the scar on his forehead exaggerated. He didn't need people staring at him at Hogwarts anymore then they did now!  
  
So, Harry began to push his bangs back down, when they suddenly sprang back magically anyway. It wasn't like he was unused to it. His hair drove him crazy at times.  
  
With a sigh, Harry washed his hands again. Dudley was still pacing the hallway, his steps growing more and more taught as the wait prolonged. " Harry! I really need to go!"  
  
" Harry Potter, will you get out of our washroom before I come up there and pull you out!" Uncle Vernon hollered.  
  
Harry realized he'd stretched his trick too far and quickly got out of the bathroom. Before he even got the chance to step out into the hallway properly, Dudley had pushed him aside and face-first into the wall and then slammed the door behind him as he took over the washroom.  
  
The sound of the shower followed. Dudley, if one thing, was obsessed with showering. He liked smelling clean and nice, which was normal, but not when one showers three times daily. It was especially annoying for Harry since he'd be left to mop up the buckets of suds and water on the floor afterwards.  
  
Once in the comfort of his room, Harry removed his glasses and then tried to fall asleep. His bed wasn't nearly as comfortable as the one in Hogwarts. Oh, how he missed Hogwarts! School was the only fun thing that happened to him these days.  
  
Just then, his owl, Hedgwig, made a low hooting sound. Harry smiled at the bird in the cage and said: " You know, Hedgwig, I think I'll send you off on a little mail errand."  
  
The bird in the cage clattered the iron bars happily.  
  
Harry pulled out a paper and a ballpoint pen and began to write a letter to Hermione, the Muggle way.  
  
  
  
Dear Hermione,  
  
I'm writing once again because I have  
  
absolutely nothing to occupy myself with. My home is a  
  
disaster - if I can even call it home. Dudley is a  
  
complete pig, Aunt Petunia is forcing me to clean up  
  
every mess Dudley makes (believe me, there's a lot of  
  
them), and Uncle Vernon seems to be a total slob and  
  
pig and cruel being rolled into one lard ball. I hate to  
  
be mean but they simply torture me!  
  
Your owl, Sunny, hadn't given me any letters  
  
at all other then the one you sent last. I think you  
  
certainly need to train it out a bit more before trusting  
  
it on such long-distance mail services.  
  
I cannot wait until I can see you and Ron at  
  
Hogwarts. Only a few weeks. only a very few  
  
weeks! I don't think it would be wise to anger my  
  
uncle and aunt with a reply using Sunny - last time,  
  
Sunny dropped in right on Aunt Petunia, and she  
  
certainly didn't like it.  
  
There's so much I want to say, but so little  
  
words to put it in.  
  
  
  
Harry paused. It most certainly was true, he wanted to say so many things to her, but there was no way that he'd be able to bring up the courage to.  
  
He opened his owl's cage, and the snow-white bird leapt out onto his bedspread, her talons picking strings out of the woven coverlet on his bed.  
  
  
  
Hedgwig is anxious to see you again, she's  
  
simply pacing the room. I hope you had a great  
  
summer, and I'll see you soon!  
  
With love right back,  
  
  
  
Harry felt a strange beating in his heart again. He loved writing that word. Love, love, love, and love again! Harry smiled and then signed the letter and handed it to Hedgwig. The owl hooted happily and flew out his open window. Once the owl was only a white slash in the sky, the black night sky a beautiful background for its snowy wings, Harry closed his window and pulled the curtains shut. It was going to be a lonely night without the soft hoot of his owl in its cage.  
  
That night, a dream haunted Harry, a horrible one. He was lying flat on his stomach, his nose scratched and itching in the dirt, his fingers digging into clumps of earth, his eyes scanning wildly around him.  
  
In his dream, he couldn't get up, not even try to get up. Blood sauntered from an open wound somewhere, scaring Harry out of his wits. Where was he hurt? What was going on?  
  
Then, Harry looked up at a dark shape in front of him, cloaked in a dark blue robe with golden fringes, two red eyes glowing like embers beneath the dark folds of his collar.  
  
They were Voldemort's eyes, and cold vicious ones in that. Harry tried to tear up from the ground, but a pain shot through him. Was he under a spell? Why couldn't he move?  
  
Voldemort walked closer to him, until Harry could feel the fabric of the dark blue robes tickling his cheeks. Harry's eyes were inches from two black boots, golden buttons holding the tongue of the shoe behind a series of intricately laced ties. Harry gasped and tried to pull back, to move away from the sneering and frightening face of Voldemort.  
  
Then, Voldemort spoke, barely coherently: " Potter."  
  
" What do you want?" Harry said, trying to swallow back fear. It was only a dream, after all. A frightening one, but only a dream. It had always been Harry's gift - he had begun to be able to know his dreams from reality as he slept. It helped ease his fear while having a nightmare.  
  
This was a nightmare, one of the worst, in fact. Harry struggled to keep from screaming out as Voldemort took another step towards him, the black shoes now about three centimeters from his brow.  
  
Then, the towering blackened shape bent over, the pale fingers slithering out to touch Harry's forehead - his scar. The familiar burning pain soared through Harry's body, and he heard in the distance a scream sounding familiarly alike to Hermione's voice: "Harry! Harry, no!"  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry's eyes shot open and he found himself lying on the floor of his bed, clutching his scar. Another night of waking up with a burning in his scar. Something was wrong, but what?  
  
Shaking his head, Harry stood from bed and looked out the window. Today was his birthday, a day in which he intended to be happy, to avoid fighting with the Dursleys any more then he could stand.  
  
The kitchen was taught with the aroma of cinnamon candles. Harry held his nose and asked Aunt Petunia: " Is there a funeral or something?"  
  
Aunt Petunia shot him an angry look and shrieked: " Don't speak of death to me! You can't threaten me!"  
  
" Petunia, sweets, get that lout to make some breakfast, will you?" Uncle Vernon called from the living room, trying to speak over the loud booming sound of the football game on the television.  
  
" You hear that, Harry? Make breakfast." Aunt Petunia pushed him towards the stove in the corner of the room and then handed Harry a pan in which to make the food.  
  
Harry smiled as Aunt Petunia left the room. He liked having the kitchen to himself as he cooked. It made him feel happier, knowing that the Dursleys won't be there, complaining about the way the food smelled or how he should add more onions to the salad.  
  
" Dad! I'm hungry!" Dudley said the words he was known for in Harry's mind.  
  
" Harry's on to it. Aren't you, boy!" Uncle Vernon hollered.  
  
" Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry replied, with a stupid smile. It's my birthday. Harry thought. I will not lose my head today. It'll be fun!  
  
Fun like a root canal.  
  
The crackling of bacon on the well-oiled pan distracted Harry from his thoughts. In one fluid motion, he pulled out a bowl and a wooden mixing spoon from one of the cabinets and then proceeded in making some crepes - the French delicacy that he picked up from Hermione. Hermione was always glad to swap Muggle recipes, saying that cooking the Muggle way was absolutely great fun.  
  
Harry didn't quite agree on that, for he did it too much to enjoy it anymore. The batter for the crepes took a while longer then he suspected, but soon four crepes stood, round, browned and ready in plates. He walloped a spoonful of farmer's cheese on each one, then turned to flip the bacon in the pan.  
  
Next, he sprayed whipped cream all over the crepe, stopping once he thought he reached a desirable amount for people like the Dursleys. Then, he put the piece de resistance - according to Hermione - on top: fresh, cut strawberries glazed with a strawberry-flavored sauce, the kind you poured onto ice cream. It looked fantastic. He ate one of them quickly and set the other three on to the table.  
  
Harry then returned to the bacon.  
  
" What are you making, Harry? I can smell something sweet. You aren't loading Dudley with that chocolate mousse again, are you? It was absolutely horrid!" Aunt Petunia called out.  
  
Harry knew that was a lie - Aunt Petunia had eaten a good three portions of it before she tired. She had no compliments for him, though.  
  
" No, Aunt Petunia, it isn't mousse. It's crepe, and bacon and some eggs for main course. The crepes are for dessert." Harry had by now made a good heaping portion of bacon and began on the eggs.  
  
" Good, then. Good." Aunt Petunia called out and returned to speaking with Dudley over how wonderful he was doing in school, and how she should reward him. Dudley had brought home a report card with marks worse than Neville's - but the Dursleys marveled over it anyway, and blaming the teachers for the worse ones.  
  
When Harry felt he had done enough work on the breakfast, he placed the food onto the table, took a small plate for himself, and sat down in the corner of the room to eat. The breakfast intended for Harry was the leftover pancakes from the day before - only two of them, the ones Dudley had dropped on the kitchen floor.  
  
Aunt Petunia had no mercy for Harry when it came to what he ate. Harry either ate with a smile whatever she 'mercifully' gave up for him, or Harry ate nothing at all.  
  
Then, Harry excused himself from the kitchen just as the Dursleys dug into their breakfast and went up to his room. There, he flipped through the photographs of his friends again, before he dozed off on his bed. One of my better birthdays, he thought groggily through his sleep-filled mind.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The days zipped by, and soon Harry found himself at Hogwarts, waiting in front of the school on the steps for Ron and Hermione. They said they'd go on the late train - a new addition to the Hogwarts Express. The late train came about fifteen minutes later then the first one.  
  
Hagrid had come to pick Harry up this time, only because Harry had no other way to get to Diagon Alley. The Dursleys, sure as heck, weren't going to drive Harry anywhere. So, rather willingly, Hagrid had volunteered to bring along his student/friend to school.  
  
Harry grew sleepy and tired, standing there, waiting for Ron and Hermione. Soon he was sitting on the cold steps, his head drooping down forwards, until it hung suspended over his knees. The rush of Hogwarts students passed him lulled him even more.  
  
Suddenly, he felt a tug on his shoulder, light at first and then harder. Then, a hissing whisper: " Harry! Wake up!"  
  
His eyes shot open, and Hermione was bending over in front of him, her nose skimming his as he looked up. She blushed and straightened up, her Gryffindor scarf fluttering around in the wind. "Well. . . hi!"  
  
" Hi." Harry stood up, and looked around. "Where's Ron?"  
  
" He's coming in a week. Something last minute came up. I think his brother is really sick - the one with the dragons." She looked sad. " So I guess we're alone."  
  
" I guess." Harry wasn't feeling sad at all, to his guilty admittance.  
  
" For a week, only." She added.  
  
" Yeah." Harry looked down at his feet. Without Ron's funny words and advice, he was lost in what to say and how to act in front of the girl before him. Hermione laughed and asked:  
  
" What's wrong with you, Harry? You look angry."  
  
" I do?" Harry realized he was frowning, his lips turned downwards in contemplation. But of course - he always seemed to frown when he was deep in thought. " Oh, sorry, just lost in thought."  
  
" What about?" Hermione wrapped her hands around the book in her arms, a smile crossing her face. " Not Quidditch again, eh?"  
  
" No." Harry's eyes searched around his surroundings for a distraction of some sort, so that Hermione wouldn't question him farther. " Look at that! Cho had already found herself a new boyfriend!"  
  
" Cho?" Hermione's lips pursed, and then loosened seeing the boyfriend Harry was referring to.  
  
Cho was standing in the far corner of the room hugging a little boy mysteriously alike to her. " She has a brother?" Harry exclaimed.  
  
" I'd say it's her cousin. I heard her talking about it on the train." Hermione giggled. " For a minute, I thought you seriously meant - - you know. . . "  
  
" Children!" The door burst open and Professor McGonagall was standing before them, her wrinkled face beaming. " Come in, Hogwarts is ready!" Her eyes stopped on Harry, and she slowed down to speak to him. " Harry. . . how was your vacation off from school?"  
  
" The summer holidays never feel like a vacation for Harry. The Dursleys had once again been horrible to him! They worked him like their slave or something. The only thing missing was the painful whip and the horrid remarks. Or maybe he got them as well!" Hermione broke in. " Harry told me all about it in a letter, the one with the little Muggle candy, Hershey, in it. . . remember, Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded quickly, then turned to face Professor McGonagall.  
  
" Miss Granger, I don't believe your name is Harry." Professor McGonagall looked a bit less happy. " I think I was referring directly to Mister Potter here."  
  
" Oops. I'm sorry. It's just that Harry is too quiet to ever tell you all of it! Right, Harry?" Hermione nudged Harry in the side. His hands went up to his glasses, taking them off slowly and cleaning them with the corner of his shirt as he walked.  
  
" I certainly wouldn't had put it in the same wording as you." Harry said, a grin tugging his mouth even wider.  
  
" Sometimes being in hiding at a Muggle family like these Dursleys is best for you." Professor McGonagall said. Just then, Dumbledore shouted from across the room: " Ah! Professor McGonagall! We have a first year here who'd separated from his group!"  
  
Harry leaned over Hermione's shoulder and saw that it was Cho's cousin. Professor McGonagall smiled apologetically at Harry and Hermione and then walked over to Dumbledore, whose great white beard was now past his knees.  
  
" The poor first years. I can remember how overwhelming my first year was." Hermione said, reminiscing in the days past.  
  
" My first year was even worse." Harry reminded her. " I didn't know anything at all; not a single wizard term or spell or potion." Hermione stiffed suddenly. "What's wrong?" Harry asked.  
  
" Malfoy." She spoke in a voice filled with bitter dislike. "What does HE want from us?"  
  
" Ah! If it isn't scar-faced Potter and Germy Granger!" Draco Malfoy sneered, facing Harry; his whitish blonde hair slicked back in an even more intimidating way then usual.  
  
" What do you want, Draco?" Harry asked, coolly.  
  
" Nothing!" Draco replied, his eyebrows raising. " Can't a guy come up and greet his foes? Say, Potter, you've gotten taller. You're looking more like all arms and legs every day."  
  
Harry didn't answer. Hermione stepped forwards, her eyes squinted as she said: " Evacus!"  
  
" Evacus?" Harry asked, and then watched as Draco spun around and walked away, as if the conversation never existed.  
  
" It's a spell I picked up over the summer. It'll make anyone simply turn around and go away." Hermione laughed. " It'll come in handy with Malfoy."  
  
" Oh, it sure will!" Harry grinned.  
  
" Harry! It's THE Harry Potter!" Some girl squealed. Suddenly, Harry felt at least ten kids crowding around him, each first years, each staring intently at the scar on his forehead.  
  
" Evacus!" He grumbled, his wand flitting through the air.  
  
" No, no, Harry, you pronounced it wrong!" Hermione said, softly.  
  
The first years asked Harry: " Is it true about. . . everything? About how you already fought You-Know-Who twice in the time at Hogwarts?"  
  
" Yeah, it is. Now can you please. . . " Harry said, startled.  
  
" Beat it!" Hermione finished, in her edgier way of speech.  
  
" Hermione!" Harry breathed out, shocked. " That was a bit rude, wasn't it?"  
  
" It worked." Hermione replied, simply, as the first-years slowly backed away.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry slid into his common room, where he immediately changed into his pajamas and then took out Hermione's photo, the ones of her that he took along from the Dursley's home. Slowly, his finger traced along the lines of her face as her hair was whipped by the beach winds in the photo. It was the one of her sitting in the setting sun, near the slowly casting sea.  
  
" Harry!"  
  
Harry's head jerked up and the photo fell to the ground, face up. Hermione had walked into the room, in her nightgown.  
  
" What. . . what is it?" Harry shot to his feet, standing in front of the fallen photo so that Hermione couldn't see it.  
  
" I came to wish you good night." Hermione replied. " I see Neville is sleeping already."  
  
Neville had fallen asleep on the couch, his freckled cheeks shimmering in the light of the fireplace. " Yeah." Harry replied, sheepishly.  
  
" Harry, is something wrong?" Hermione's eyes narrowed, her brown hair, with the light highlights, tumbling in curls down her shoulders as she cocked her head to the side in wonder at his shy actions.  
  
" No, it's just - nothing." Harry bit his tongue to keep from saying something stupid.  
  
" What's that behind you? On the ground?" Hermione looked at the smooth surface of the photo. It reflected the firelight, so it was hard to see what it was. " A wrapper? Eating candy at night, are we?"  
  
She poked Harry in the stomach. " You'll be out of shape for Quidditch." She teased.  
  
Then, she stepped past him. He took her hand. " Hermione, I. . ."  
  
" What is it?" She was standing right above the photo. One glance down and she'd see it, and it would all be out.  
  
" Er. . . " Suddenly, his scar flashed in a burst of pain. His hand shot up to the ridges on his forehead. " My scar! It's burning!" He'd never been so happy to be distracted by his scar as he now was.  
  
Then, not a trace of the pain was left. He pressed the ridge marks on his face, then murmured: " Never mind now."  
  
" Do you think. . . You-Know-Who is near?" Hermione whispered, quietly.  
  
" Voldemort?" Harry said the word as if it were nothing, then saw Hermione wince and added, quickly: " Sorry. I keep forgetting."  
  
" It's okay." Hermione let out a slow, wavering breath. " Why does it go away so fast, though? Had it always. . . ?"  
  
" Yes." Harry took her cold fingers and pressed them to his scar. " Right here - always, always coming and going. Unbearable pain, really."  
  
Her fingertip, freezing like ice but soft and smooth as silk, ran down across his scar, then continued down his cheek, her hand guiding his face up to hers, their eyes meeting. " Harry, you really should report it to Dumbledor this time. It could get dangerous -You-Know-Who might really be around this time, as well as before."  
  
" I. . . I suppose. Now, I think it's way past bedtime, so if you don't mind. . . " Harry stammered, trying to steer her away from the photograph on the floor. His bare foot tried to push the photo beneath the lazy-boy chair, but the rough backing of the photo didn't slide well on the carpeted floor and his toe made a loud, squeaking noise instead as it slid down the length of the photograph.  
  
The Hermione in the picture was still sitting calmly by the ocean, staring out into the waves, her hair fluttering around behind her.  
  
Harry saw this from the corner of his eye, then looked up just as Hermione looked down. His foot stamped down fast over the photograph, covering most of it.  
  
" What's going on, Harry? You're acting strange." Hermione asked.  
  
" Nothing!" Harry protested.  
  
" Nothing? Really?" Hermione gently pushed him aside, his foot dragging the photo with him, so that when she looked down on the floor where his foot was, only a small area of carpet remained, a bit flattened out by his foot, the carpet dimpled where his toes where. " Weird. I really thought you. . . "  
  
" Would you guys keep it down?" Neville piped up from the couch. His sleepy eyes studied Harry and Hermione for a minute, then widened. " Oh, maybe I should leave."  
  
" No, Neville - it really isn't necessary." Hermione said, quickly.  
  
" It's alright. I can go! No need to be secretive." Neville winked at Harry and then stood up, his side jabbing into the corner of the table. The flowerpot on the table wobbled dangerously, and Hermione caught it before it tipped over.  
  
" Sorry." Neville whimpered, and rushed from the room.  
  
" Longbottom is just as clumsy as before, isn't he?" Hermione said, smiling.  
  
Harry nodded, and then succeeded in pushing the photograph further down beneath the lazy-boy chair. Now concealed, he was able to move around freely. He took a step forwards and then said: " Well, let's sit down, shall we?"  
  
She nodded and then lowered herself on the couch. Harry sat opposite her, on the lazy boy chair, trying to look completely unknowing of the photograph that lay guiltily beneath him.  
  
" So . . . "  
  
" Well . . . " They both said, at the same time.  
  
Hermione laughed, and then dug into the pocket of her nightgown, bringing out a folded piece of paper. " I just remembered - Ron sends a letter. He insisted that I don't read it, but I. . . peeked."  
  
Harry's stomach dropped. If Ron had written of Harry's love for Hermione, then - he shuddered inwardly at the thought. A prickle in his scar made his eyes widen suddenly.  
  
" What's wrong?" Hermione asked.  
  
" Nothing." Harry quickly said, and took the folded letter from her hands. He opened it up and read to himself:  
  
Dear Harry!  
  
My brother, Charlie, had gotten really sick and we're  
  
gonna go see him in Norway. I hope you're doing all right.  
  
Hermione was to give you this letter, so I knew I couldn't write  
  
much in here. I bet she peaked!  
  
Harry looked up at Hermione, and she blushed. She knew what Harry had just read, and was a bit embarrassed that Ron had been correct- she had peeked.  
  
So, what's new, Harry? Is Dudley still fat as a house?  
  
Are the Dursleys still mean to you? Do you miss Hogwarts?  
  
Did you completely hate summer holidays? If you answered  
  
yes at all these questions then not much changed in your life.  
  
That sounds like one of those quizzes in my mom's  
  
magazine, "Witch's Brew". It's always got those things where  
  
women fill out questions and analyze their lives and men and  
  
stuff.  
  
I hope we see each other soon. At least I hope Charlie  
  
gets well soon. Not only because I care for his health, but then  
  
the sooner I get to see you and Hermione.  
  
Your friend,  
  
Ron  
  
Harry folded the letter back up and then said: " I guess Ron's brother must be really seriously sick, then. The Weasleys wouldn't cancel all their children's school schedules for some sort of cold. I wonder what happened to Charlie . . . "  
  
" I think it's odd that Ron never mentions what happened. I mean, there must be already some sort of disease confirmed, or at least the symptoms. Yet, Ron doesn't even utter a word of what's happening to Charlie, other then that he's sick." Hermione pointed out.  
  
" Ron might not know himself. His parents might not have told him, so as not to worry him." Harry suggested.  
  
" Maybe." Hermione looked doubtful.  
  
Suddenly, footsteps echoed up the stairs and the face of Professor McGonagall peered into the doorway. " Students! Do you wish to have five points taken from Gryffindor on the very first day? Miss Granger, I thought you knew better then to sneak around in the night anymore."  
  
" I'm sorry, Professor." Hermione mumbled, and then rushed from the room, saying a quick " Good night" to Harry. Once outside, Hermione began to speak softly to Professor McGonagall and the two women laughed lightly. Harry wished he could know what they were laughing about - was it about him?  
  
He looked sideways into the tall mirror in the corner of the room. Harry preferred not to obsess on how he looked, but he had lately been trying to figure out how he'd look without his glasses. Everything was annoyingly fuzzy when he didn't have them on, and he barely had any depth perception. Yet, he felt he must look a bit better. Would Hermione care for him if he looked better?  
  
Harry had often gotten praise from girls about his looks, especially today, before he got to his common room. Lavender had told him he looked cute, and asked how he got so muscled (Harry was wearing his sleeves rolled up of his Hogwarts robes, so his arm muscles practically bulged). But, Harry thought, my arms are like that from Quidditch, and I was the same last year.  
  
The face in the mirror that he saw was older then he last remembered. The Dursleys rarely let Harry enough time in privacy to peek into a mirror. The only time he got to use mirrors freely was at Hogwarts. The mirror talked to him, often, and it did so now:  
  
" It's not nice to stare, honey."  
  
" Oh, sorry." Harry said, flustered.  
  
" Only joking." The mirror said, then yawned. " You look nicer, by the way. A bit mysterious, and quite romantic. I overheard quite some talk from the ladies."  
  
Harry's eyebrows raised.  
  
" Oh, yes." The mirror continued. " But I would do something with your hair. It's a catastrophe with such a handsome face."  
  
" I really can't. . ." Harry said, but the mirror continued, droning sleepily:  
  
" Perhaps the glasses could be lost, though they are your trademark. No, in fact, its sweet that way, and it really seems like its framing your pretty eyes, they're really a nice green! No, I think that maybe . . . " The mirror talked on. Harry didn't listen any longer. He disliked obsessing on himself, after all.  
  
The next morning, Harry dressed quickly and ran to the dining hall. The breakfast had already been set up, with the magical plates laden with delicious food. Harry had never been able to feast like this at the Dursleys - he rarely got a bread crust or two if they were in a good mood. Now in front of his eyes were plates of delicious toast, with small dapples of butter in the middle, browned pancakes with maple syrup bottles nearby, delicious-looking breakfast sausage and hashed potatoes, and a few other delicacies.  
  
" Hey! Harry!" Someone called out his name.  
  
Harry turned, his robes billowing and whipping around his legs, and saw Neville. Neville's face was red from exhaustion, for he clearly had run from the Gryffindor table to him.  
  
" What is it, Neville?" Harry asked, hoping it didn't have anything to do with Malfoy.  
  
" Snape wants to talk to you. He's been standing by our table for ages now, waiting for you. Hermione's got the creeps scared out of her!" Neville breathed in and out violently before continuing: "Whatever you do, don't smile. Hermione smiled at Snape and he took it as an offense. You know, as if she was sneering at him or something."  
  
" Oh." Harry looked downcast. " Do I . . . seriously . . . have to go see him? Think you can pull off something about how I'm ill to the stomach, puking my insides out in the boy's bathroom?"  
  
" Nope. I tried that before. Gangrene worked well for a day or two, but then he spoke to the nurse and . . . " Neville shuddered. " I got punished."  
  
Harry put his hand on Neville's shoulder. " Neville, don't let Snape put you down. He's just one of those creeps, you know?"  
  
" I know." Neville mumbled through his puffed lower lip. He'd woken up this morning and smashed his head into the wall with a sickening crack, and gave himself a swollen lip among other injuries unseen by his robe. Then, Neville looked away from Harry's green eyes and said: " Go to Snape. You shouldn't keep him waiting."  
  
" Alright." Harry smiled and then approached the Gryffindor table. A few students turned to say "Hi, Harry", to which he waved back, but most students were too busy keeping silent and stiff so as to keep from getting snapped at by Snape.  
  
" Ah! If it isn't Mr. Potter, finally awake from his boyish dreams of glory." Professor Snape said.  
  
" Good morning, Professor." Harry replied, trying to keep from saying something mean.  
  
" I see you aren't accompanied by the red disaster, that freckled Weasley boy. In fact, I hadn't seen any of them. Had the Weasley plague finally retreated?" Professor Snape crossed his arms across his thin body.  
  
" Ron's brother, Charlie, is sick. They went to see him." Harry explained.  
  
" Another case of the sniffles getting the whole family alarmed, I bet. That Mrs. Weasley makes such a big deal about little things." Professor Snape lifted a goblet from the table and took a long, deep drink, then continued: " Potter, I waited for you to speak about a different matter, though."  
  
" What is it?" Harry asked, growing restless.  
  
" Draco Malfoy had reported to me that you've been performing the Evacus spell on him. He said he'd come up to say hello to you, wishing to extend a friendly greeting, when you zapped him with a spell. I find it very rude and wish an explanation, Potter." Professor Snape frowned.  
  
" Draco had come up and insulted me openly, calling me all arms and legs . . . " Harry explained, then sighed. " Hermione was the one that cast the Evacus spell, anyhow. I'm not that knowledgeable in spells."  
  
" I see. Miss Granger!" Professor Snape shouted. The room fell into a deathly silence, all four tables staring towards Snape. He looked at Hermione, who had stood up. Now that the bustle in the room settled, Harry, Hermione and Snape were the only ones standing.  
  
" What is it, Professor?" Hermione said, softly. Her voice projected through the room easily, anyway.  
  
" Is it true that both of you had been casting Evacus spells on people who simply wished to greet you?" Professor Snape pointed accusingly at them.  
  
" Not really, it was actually . . . " Harry began, trying to explain how the only person they sent away with the Evacus spell was Draco.  
  
" Don't talk back to me!" Snape shouted. " Five points from Gryffindor."  
  
Murmurs of anger arose from the Gryffindor table, and the Slytherin table was in uproar with laughter. Snape's facial muscles tensed and he continued: " Another ten points from Gryffindor for the Evacus spell. And a quarter point each for each of the forty or so kids that whispered."  
  
" What! But Slytherin was laughing full-blow, while we only . . . " Hermione burst out.  
  
" I believe twenty-five points off total is enough, Miss Granger? Do you wish me to take off a point for each word you utter?" Snape asked.  
  
" Professor Snape! The children are right! If you take off points for rowdiness at the Gryffindor table, then Slytherin should have the same points taken off, as well!" Dumbledore spoke up from across the room.  
  
Snape blanched, then continued, trying to act casually: "Alright, then. Ten points from Slytherin."  
  
" What?" The distinct shout of Malfoy echoed in the room. Everyone's eyes settled on the white-haired young man sitting at the Slytherin table, his cold blue eyes piercing through the air in the room, his forehead creased in an angry scowl of contempt and anger towards everyone, especially Snape's choice of punishment, as well as Dumbledore's intrusion on the affair.  
  
" Mister Malfoy, do you wish to enter this conversation as well?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
" No." Malfoy replied. " But it's not my fault! It's Harry's fault! It's him who had to go and cast that spell on me! I'm still feeling shaky about it!"  
  
" Shaky . . . yeah right." Someone whispered from the Hufflepuff table.  
  
Then, Cho stood up, her shiny black hair cascading down her back as she announced: " I think that Harry's punishment is unfair. Who's with me?"  
  
Shouts of agreement rose from around the room. Snape was startled and angered, but he finally pressed his lips tightly shut and grimaced as he held his hands up, saying: " The punishment stays!"  
  
" Now, let's get some rest and enjoy our first breakfast here!" Dumbledore looked very mad. Harry got shivers running up his back and goose bumps on his arms beneath his robe at the thought of Dumbledore being angry. Dumbledore was about the most powerful wizard other then Voldemort.  
  
" Harry! Cho stood up for you! Cho!" Some boy said dreamily to Harry.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and then patted the empty spot at the table beside her. " Harry, come sit with me."  
  
All heads close enough to hear averted to Hermione.  
  
" What? He's my friend!" Hermione grumbled. " Really, you people . . . "  
  
Harry sat down beside Hermione and then put a pancake on his plate, along with a toast and a scrambled egg. His eyes studied the meal before him before he said: " I wonder if Ron is alright."  
  
" Why wouldn't he be? It's Charlie we should worry about." Hermione said.  
  
" I know . . . but . . . " Harry bit his lower lip in worry, then continued: " I have this weird feeling. I don't know where it came from, but just suddenly . . . "  
  
" Don't worry, Harry." Hermione sighed and then cut her toast into two equal pieces. " Isn't this toast hard or what?"  
  
" I'll say." Harry laughed, poking his fork deep into the hardened toast. It slid across his plate under the pressure of his fork and plopped down on the white tablecloth.  
  
" Watch it." Hermione said, and then helped him lift the toast back onto his plate. Their heads bumped just as they both looked up at each other.  
  
" Ouch! Sorry." Harry blushed and then turned to find Neville sitting down beside him.  
  
" Hey, Harry . . . " Neville said, between wheezing gasps for air. "I . . . thought . . . I'd . . . come back for . . . more food. Still . . . hungry . . . is Snape gone?"  
  
" I suppose so." Harry replied. " He took twenty five points from Gryffindor."  
  
" What!" Neville burst out, then added: " At least it's not my fault this time."  
  
"Acquiescence is the only way to be around Snape." Hermione sighed.  
  
" Acquiescence?" Neville asked, his eyes dulling at the unfamiliar word. " Isn't that the thing you call people you just met?"  
  
" No! That's acquaintance. Acquiescence is compliance, submissiveness. You know." Hermione seemed a bit discouraged with how Neville and Harry didn't understand the hard words she used. " Perhaps I should speak - - um - - without using the fancy terms?"  
  
" Yeah. You should." Harry nodded solemnly.  
  
Hermione nodded, and then continued: " I'm thinking that we can study together in the evenings, Harry. It would really improve your Potions class mark."  
  
" I don't have a mark yet. Classes start after breakfast." Harry grinned.  
  
" Yes, I know!" Hermione rolled her eyes. " You are the same Harry from last year, though, and that means you'll do pretty much the same in Potions. That wasn't a very nice mark you got last year." Hermione frowned at the thought.  
  
" I wonder what Snape will make us do now. This is Advanced Potions, isn't it?" Neville asked.  
  
" Most likely, or Potions Two, or 'The Torture, Extended', however you call it." A shy first-year spoke up. He smiled at Harry when his eyes met his, knowing this was the famous Harry Potter's attention he had captured. " My cousin goes here, and she always complains a lot about Snape."  
  
" Aren't you Cho's cousin?" Hermione asked.  
  
The boy nodded.  
  
" Cho . . . " Harry felt a surge of memories. He used to like her, but maybe it was just admiring from a distance. Harry had never tried to explain it to himself afterwards, all he felt in his heart now was Hermione.  
  
" Harry!" Someone burst out from across the room. Harry looked up and smiled to see Colin Creevey, his greatest 'fan'. Colin burst out laughing gleefully and lifted up his camera, as if to take a picture, then winked and shouted: " Don't worry, Harry, I'm not going to annoy you this year."  
  
" Thank Heavens." Hermione grumbled under her breath. Colin had gotten under her nails often enough, as well.  
  
" That was some steam you must have held in, when Snape was arguing with you!" Colin sat down at beside him, smashing Hermione away.  
  
Harry felt as if his own body was ripped in two as Hermione's soft robes no longer skimmed his leg and arm. Dennis, Colin's brother, soon followed Colin with an equally shining smile on his round face.  
  
" I've had practice." Harry replied.  
  
" How do you come up with such witty remarks?" Colin marveled.  
  
" Not purposely, if that's what you mean." Harry and Hermione exchanged He's-still-annoying kind of looks, then Harry returned to speaking with Colin. " Shouldn't you be . . . somewhere?"  
  
"What do you mean, Harry? I'm a Gryffindor, just like Colin! Why shouldn't we sit with you?" Then, Dennis's face changed. " Oh, but of course! You're the boy . . . the BOY THAT LIVED!"  
  
" I see you take after your brother in your fascinations." Hermione said, softly.  
  
" It's really not like that, I just thought I'd be able to have a quiet welcoming dinner for once. Then again, with the whole Snape thing, I'm surprised I'm still in the mood to eat at all." Harry buttered his toast angrily.  
  
" You really could use more meat on your bones." Cho's cousin said, after a while. " Cho said that you're lean and quiet, and charming!" Cho's cousin giggled and then nudged the first-year boy beside him. " Didn't she, Kyle?"  
  
The other first-year, Kyle Snook, nodded feverishly, then chuckled.  
  
Harry heard Hermione grumble: " Oh, bother."  
  
" Isn't that the boy Lavender likes?" Some girl whispered behind Harry just then. A thin murmur of giggles followed. Harry couldn't help but bite his tongue to keep from turning around and seeing if they meant him. Of course they don't, Harry thought. Lavender's not into boys like me.  
  
Colin continued talking to him, his face changing expressions as he rummaged through topics. Finally, he struck a gold vein as he mentioned Quidditch. " Oh, and Harry - I hear they're going to make you Quidditch captain of the Gryffindor team."  
  
" Captain?" Harry nearly choked on the piece of bacon that he'd been trying to swallow. " Me?"  
  
" Well, sure!" Colin pushed the crust of his bread into his mouth, and then turned to Cho's cousin. " Kid, what's your name, anyway?"  
  
" Nikki. Call me Nick, though. That's what everyone calls me." Nick sniffled as his hand rummaged through his pockets for a napkin. " I'm surprised I didn't go to Hufflepuff, like Cho."  
  
Just then, a loud banging filled the room and Dumbledor announced: " All eyes towards me, children."  
  
Hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to face the tall man in dark robes, today a shade of light gray, his white beard blending oddly well with the fuzzy fabric. Harry's eyes met the wizard's, and the wizard's eyes sparkled with a unique appreciation for the boy. Then, Dumbledore said: " I'm sure you're all excited about Quidditch. Well, we have some announcements to make as to the first game. It will be in exactly three days, so you might as well get ready, all you Quidditch players. Meanwhile, will all Gryffindor students submit an entry for who shall be captain of Gryffindor team to Madame Hooch? Thank you." Dumbledore sat down.  
  
A buzz crossed the Gryffindor table as people discussed among each other who the captain should be. Harry heard his name tossed around aimlessly, then his hearing faded into concentrating on Colin's words: " - - And Dennis, I'm telling you, Malfoy is up to no good."  
  
" What did Malfoy do now?" Harry turned to Colin.  
  
" Oh, nothing!" Colin immediately said. " I'm just telling Dennis about how Malfoy had always been so bad that he'll amount to nothing good when he grows up."  
  
" True." Nick agreed. " Cho told me that that's the boy that always tortures Harry. Cho talks a lot about Harry. Harry, didn't you ask her to the dance?"  
  
Harry's ears burned red. " No." He mumbled, then looked from the corner of his eye at Cho. She was still chatting excitedly with two girls her age, one of them a new girl by the name of Rebecca Crick, a transfer student from Beauxbaxton.  
  
" Well, whatever. She said you did. Maybe she lied for some reason." Nick then described how Cho raved over the way Harry had asked her to the dance - and then spoke in a reverent way: "She went with Ceddric Diggory, though. Bless his soul."  
  
The thought of Ceddric still made Harry sad. The fact that Ceddric had died seemed almost unbelievable. He had been such a great person, so nice and always so open. Polite to adults, according to the speech Professor McGonagall told her class the last day of school. A good kisser, according to Cho, as said by Nick.  
  
" Harry, I can't eat anymore." Hermione said, pushing her plate forwards. The white dish disappeared immediately. She then excused herself from the table and ran away.  
  
" What's wrong with her? Doesn't she like hearing about Cho?" Nick asked aloud.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry had walked away from the Gryffindor table a while later. Something was wrong with Hermione - he could sense it. Harry's feet led him to their room, where the portrait of the fat lady hung. The fat lady turned to him, her eyes opening groggily as she let out a few gurgled words: " So sleepy - - Password, please?"  
  
" Cricket Knees." Harry said.  
  
" Incorrect." The fat lady replied.  
  
" Oh! Cricket Elbow!" Harry remembered the password a bit better now.  
  
" That's the stuff." The portrait swung aside and Harry walked into his common room. He'd told Hermione the password an hour before, for she'd been forgetting things lately. He wondered why it had slipped his mind, as well.  
  
Inside the common room, he saw disarray of feathers on the floor, a slashed open pillow lying limp on the coffee table, and a small jar of sand knocked over. Neville had gotten some sand from some sort of good-luck stream in Italy, from an aunt of his, which he had spilled that morning. The pillow was Harry's - but now part of Neville's destructive demise as he tripped while carrying a pocketknife, in order to open the package in which the sand came in. In the end, the sand had been destroyed anyhow.  
  
Hermione was sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, a book in one hand and an apple in the other. She ate in hungrily, not even noticing as she consumed the sticker on it. " Hermione?" Harry asked, uncertainly. " I thought you weren't hungry."  
  
Hermione looked up from the page of the book, her eyes searching Harry's for a minute before she said, simply: " Eh. I guess my appetite came back."  
  
" That's good." Harry bent over, trying to pick up the feathers dotting the floor. " That Neville can make a mess, can't he! Yet, he can't clean it up. Pity, since the common room is completely shabby because of him."  
  
" I agree." Hermione grinned as she kicked her leg out, her foot clad in a pink bunny slipper. A few feathers soared off from the sole of the slipper and settled on the carpet. The carpets had been replaced with new ones, this time of wine-dark color and spun with intricate designs of gold thread. Hermione saw Harry looking at the carpet and added: " I hear the carpets came from India. Dumbledor went through quite some trouble to get them."  
  
" How do you know these things?" Harry asked, amused.  
  
" I hear the teachers speak. While you and Ron blank out in class, I listen intently. This morning, while Snape ranted at you, I heard Professor Trelawney speak in the back of the room about the rugs. She was pleased, saying their richness could influence the mystical eye inside the students." Hermione snorted with laughter. " I'm still not over how ridiculous her class was."  
  
" This year she's teaching us palm reading. It could get interesting." Harry looked at his own palms. Small lines crossed here and there, and he'd noticed long ago that when he'd purse his hand a certain way, the four main lines formed a little 'M'. 'M' for Millionaire, happy and rich; or an 'M' for mother, the woman he never knew, who's life was taken for him.  
  
" Palm reading. Rubbish." Hermione balled up her hands into fists. " What next? She'll pull apart our peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches and read our fortunes from the jelly swirl patterns."  
  
" Hey! I'd seen people do that before! It's pretty accurate." Harry sat down beside Hermione, which was hard considering how the lazy-boy wasn't exactly fit for two people to sit at on one time. But Harry had balanced more on the arm of it, and Hermione was nestled in the far corner, a bit surprised by Harry's closeness.  
  
" Really? Jelly?" She asked, her eyes unmoving from Harry. She was looking at something - at what? Harry tried to trail her eyes to where she was looking. She seemed to be looking up over his eyes. Is my hair messy? Harry thought. Then, he realized that it was his scar.  
  
" No! The palm reading!" Harry took her hand and turned it over. She had colored her nails a nice light blue, with tiny sparkles floating on it. He saw the lines across her palms, then tried to remember which meant what. His finger touched the very center-running crease and said: " I think this is the life line. It curves right there." His finger ran to where it seemed to split and then run at a slightly different angle. " - - I'd say that's about the fifteenth or sixteenth year of your life, counting on the length of the line."  
  
" What does it mean?" She asked.  
  
" Something important, life-changing will happen." Harry then touched the line directly above it, running across the top, then curving with the other one. " That's the wealth line, I think. Not much wealth you have there."  
  
" No surprise there!" She laughed.  
  
" And this. this is love." He stopped. The line had tapered off towards him. He put her hand back on her book. " Never mind that. What I came here for is to ask what's wrong. You seemed upset and just ran from the table."  
  
" Nothing's wrong, Harry." Hermione assured him. Harry read the spine of the book in her hands: Quidditch through the Ages. "Hey! Cool!" I read that book!" Harry exclaimed. " Since when do you like Quidditch?"  
  
" Oh, I dunno. I'm thinking of joining the team."  
  
Harry began to laugh, then saw the seriousness on Hermione's face. " What? You don't think I can make it?" She asked, a trace of disappointment twitching her lips.  
  
" No! It's just - you don't seem the type." Harry explained.  
  
" The type? And what kind of type am I?" She poked him in the chest, then blushed. " A bookworm? The type that will study all day and have no worldly liking?"  
  
" No!" Harry stood up. " I'm sorry if I offended you."  
  
" You didn't offend me at all. That just makes me want to try out more!" She tossed her hair over her shoulder for it had slipped forwards, then added: " I should get ready for classes. Professor Snape is first - and he's no fun."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Snape's class, indeed, was no fun. The minute they walked into class (Hermione and Harry being last there, therefore all eyes on them), Snape exclaimed:  
  
" Well, if it isn't my favorite student."  
  
A brief laughter echoed in the room, then ceased at the sight of Snape's sour face. His eyes glittered at the surprised silence, using it to his advantage in order to humiliate Harry in front of a wide-awake, alert audience.  
  
" And if he isn't accompanied by Miss Granger, his closest companion."  
  
Malfoy laughed bitterly from his seat, saying: " Potter, sit your sorry behind down before you turn any redder."  
  
Harry hadn't even realized he'd been red, but now he acknowledged it and sat down right away. Snape narrowed his eyes, until they became angry slits, and then the words hissing from his parched lips nearly sent shivers up and down Harry's back: " Today I want Harry to be my assistant."  
  
" Professor, it isn't fair to torment Harry because of the nit-pick this morning." Parvati Patil spoke up.  
  
" Parvati!" Snape seemed surprised. " Would you like to explain your sudden affection to Potter?"  
  
Parvati was about four shades redder then Harry. " I just t-t-think it's unfair, t-t-that's all." She stammered.  
  
Thanks, Harry mouthed to Parvati. She only turned redder, so Harry averted his eyes to face Snape instead. " Now, then. Harry, come up front."  
  
Harry did, moving slowly, his robes rustling around him uncomfortably, making the noise of a sack of potatoes rubbing on tree bark.  
  
Once he was in front, Snape told the class: "Prepare your quills, you'll be writing a ghastly amount of notes."  
  
The class grumbled as parchments flittered out from bags and ink canisters clattered on the shiny surfaces of the desks. Hermione gave Harry a thumbs-up sign, trying to make him smile or at least look somewhat like it wasn't dooms-day. Harry turned to Snape, and the tall dark-haired man began:  
  
" Today we will be looking through the simple potion - the Liquefier. It simply, when ingested, turns the person into liquid form." Snape smiled at Harry. " Potter, I'd advise removing your glasses. They might have some damage done to them as your body melts to the floor."  
  
Gasps filled the room, then the feverish scratching of quill against parchment. Only Hermione couldn't tear her worried eyes from Harry, her pen barely marking the paper, her handwriting three times as bad as she didn't even look down at what she wrote.  
  
" Now, the ingredients are few, but important. Listen carefully, those of you that wish to have me repeat then I'll do the next demonstration on you." The words sounded especially frightening to Harry's classmates, now that Harry, the seemingly bravest student (who'd faced off with Voldemort) was standing like a trembling turkey before Thanksgiving.  
  
" First, class, what is needed in order to soften bones? I'm sure Madame Pomfrey mentioned this once or twice to anyone who'd been in the hospital wing." Snape looked over the students in the class, skipping Hermione, who's hand waved frantically in the air.  
  
" Nobody knows?" Snape sighed. " Such ignorant children. Well, the ingredient would be bone marrow - completely ground, I may add - from a Whilltilly. Does anyone know what a Whilltilly is?"  
  
Once again, nobody knew but Hermione, and Snape avoided her raised hand completely. " A Whilltilly, my ignorant students, is a strange plant that grows with bones inside it. It cannot move, and yet has a bone structure for no apparent reason. It's about the same as a beet in appearance. A farmer in Indiana, USA, had found one three years ago. The Ministry of Magic had to work overtime trying to erase the incident from the farmer's mind and then erasing any signs that there could have been a beet like that. And the Whilltilly was taken to grow among its brothers in a special botanic garden in Wales."  
  
" Professor!" Hermione's hand shot up.  
  
" Does anyone have questions so far?" Snape asked, cruelly.  
  
" I do!" Hermione gasped out.  
  
" Nobody." Snape smiled. " Alright, Harry. Next ingredient - a dragon scale, also ground into smooth powder. Everyone, I'm sure, knows what a dragon is, and what a scale is?"  
  
The silence in the class was interrupted by a squeal from Neville: " Uh . . . Professor? My ink spilled."  
  
" You blubbering fool! Must you mess up everything that your hands touch?" Snape shouted. " Use your wand to clean it up!"  
  
" What!" Neville's eyes widened. " Do you want me to burn the desk to a crisp?"  
  
" Do it!" Snape hissed.  
  
Neville gulped and lifted his wand. He thought hard for the spell, whispered something, and then sparks shot from his wand, engulfing his desk. Soon, the desk was clean. " I did it!" Neville screamed out. " I actually did it!"  
  
Snape looked disappointed. The Professor probably wanted him to mess up so that he could humiliate Neville again. " A point from Gryffindor for Neville's pathetic cheering." Snape grumbled.  
  
Shouts of protest arose from the Gryffindors in the room.  
  
" Make that two points." Snape shouted over the class. "Moving on, the third ingredient is a liquid, to mix the two powders together. It's simple water, the most common liquid in our world other then. what?"  
  
Hermione raised her hand, and Malfoy did as well. Snape raised his eyebrows. " Look who's hand is up! Draco, would you like to tell the class?"  
  
" Blood!" Malfoy sneered out.  
  
" Excellent." Snape scribbled something down in the notebook he held, a smile on his face. " Excellent." He repeated, then added: "A point for Slytherin, for having the only young man in an entire class to answer something."  
  
Hermione looked ready to cry.  
  
" Now then." Snape took a small test tube from his desk and then pointed his wand at the potion, chanting: " Liquefier, Liquefier, Melt away the heart's desire, body of rock, body of stone, keep the form, lose the bone!"  
  
Quills fluttered across parchments, writing the spell down. Harry's stomach twisted. He hadn't written any notes down, and he'd normally copy from Hermione but she wasn't writing anything much either; and Ron - Ron wasn't here.  
  
" Now, then, my little assistant, drink this." Snape handed the potion to Harry.  
  
Harry's hands trembled as he took his glasses off. Lavender made a small gasp sound in the back of the room as Harry's handsome face lost its dark frames, and the emerald green eyes blazed passionately now, other then simply flickered dully like aged silk when behind glasses. " Lavender, keep your hyperventilating for Madame Trelawney's class. She'll give you something to hyperventilate about." Snape said, and Lavender visibly made a movement in her mouth of biting her tounge to keep from yelling at Snape.  
  
Harry took the potion and then pressed it to his lips. The salty taste of it wet his lips, and then he downed it quickly. He licked his lips. " Tastes like potato chips, eh, Harry?" Snape asked. Harry nodded. Then, suddenly, he felt his whole face sag as he nodded.  
  
Parvati shrieked.  
  
Harry's eyes looked down, only not purposely. They simply flowed down, along with his cheeks, until his whole body seemed to be curving over like a melting candle's wax.  
  
" Ah! The bones are beginning to disappear." Snape announced. " See the obvious lack of bones appearing in the upper portions first? That's so the victim doesn't just fall over and collapse right away. The purpose of this is to horrify the victim, to keep him basking a while in the knowledge that he's melting alive."  
  
Harry tried to speak, but his voice came out a liquid gurgle.  
  
" What's that, Harry? Maybe you wish to be your true form again?" Snape glanced up. Hermione was standing, ready to run to the front of the class, her eyes haunted by a horrified expression. Hermione didn't trust Snape. She most likely expected Snape to keep Harry a liquid blob forever.  
  
" Hermione, I'm not killing him up here. Don't worry, he'll be back to his true self. Ladies, settle down." Most of the girls, in fact, looked panicked.  
  
Harry couldn't help but feel pleased, though it felt as if, as he smiled, his legs swirled along to his mouth. Everything was connected and moving together in water, after all.  
  
" Well, I suppose I'll let Harry come back." Snape touched the puddle of Harry on the floor and said the spell: " Liquefier, Liquefier, retreat!"  
  
Harry suddenly felt his whole body surge upwards, and his body seemed to go in reverse from the melting stage. Slowly he found his body parts oozing back together. Then, finally, he let out a breath and said, aloud: " Oh! Thank goodness!"  
  
" Harry, you may return to your seat. I hope Hermione or Ron will provide you with the notes for - - oh, wait! Where is Mr. Weasley?" Snape asked. " Had he dared cut class? My class!"  
  
" No, Professor. Ron is out visiting Charlie, remember?" Hermione piped up.  
  
" Hmm that's right. My memory isn't as good these days as it used to be. Perhaps I have wasted too much time on this worthless class. By the way, Mr. Malfoy, is there news of a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher yet?" Snape turned to Draco, his most trusted student.  
  
" No, sir."  
  
" No?" Snape looked delighted and then turned serious. "Class, that would be it for today's lesson. Go home and review the notes. I want a complete parchment on the Liquefier spell by tomorrow. Describe fully what you saw happening to Potter."  
  
Harry grabbed his glasses from Snape's table and then rushed to get his books. Then, he followed Hermione to his next class. They had the same schedule this year, and second class was Madame Hooch's Quidditch Advanced. She was teaching students to play Quidditch, so that even those not on the teams were familiarized with the game more personally.  
  
Hermione had purchased for herself a Nimbus 2000 while Harry had his trusty Firebolt. As they stepped out into the blinding sunlight of the playing field along with their class (no Malfoy in this class, to Harry's joy), Madame Hooch's voice filled their ears: "Students, put your brooms on the ground. Now, stand up and flex your arms."  
  
Then, the figure of Madame Hooch stepped into the field from the shadows on to their left. She showed them how to exercise their arms properly in order to make their upper arms operate the broom wisely (Harry had done this for an hour every two days for the whole summer, keeping his arms strong and ready for his fifth season).  
  
" Madame Hooch!" Hermione raised her hand. " My broom's twitching."  
  
" It's reacting to your hand movements. You're moving too violently. Come stand by Harry, he'll show you how to do it properly." Madame Hooch motioned to Harry, who was flexing his arms very professionally indeed.  
  
Harry took hold of Hermione's arm, gently pulling her sleeves upwards. " Now, Herm, this is what you do. See up here?" He ran his finger across the muscle on the upper part of her arm. She grew pink in the cheeks. " Right there is the muscle you want to stretch. If you go like this with your fist - - " He cupped his hand over hers, gently pressing her fingers into a fist, then twisting her arm a bit so that the vein on her wrist nearly popped out. " - - You should feel a tightening in the muscle."  
  
Hermione nodded slowly. " The muscle right here?" She motioned to Harry's arm.  
  
He smiled and pulled the sleeve of his robe up, showing her his glistening muscle, his smile surprisingly warm. Harry usually disliked showing his body off. " See it?" He flexed his arm, and the muscle grew giant.  
  
A few other girls began to look at his arm.  
  
" Harry! I asked you to help Hermione, not distract the class." Madame Hooch laughed.  
  
" I'm sorry." Harry looked downcast as he pulled the sleeve of his robe back down. His mind set on the next class, Professor Trelawney's palm reading, and then Herbology Advanced.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The small attic room of Professor Trelawney was packed with even more clutter. Harry sat down on a particularly misshapen chair, with legs carved from birch (and very scarred, old birch it was), and Neville sat right beside him on it for it was very big. Hagrid must have made it, for his interest in woodcarving had spread to many new, odd wooden shapes standing around in the halls and classrooms of Hogwarts. A long, frizzled scarf hung overhead, its dulled fabric stringy near the bottom from constant use. At least a dozen fake flowers were scattered along the window behind Harry, which was covered with a light red mesh cloth.  
  
" Good morning, my students." Professor Trelawney said, her voice distant as she sauntered towards them, her oversized robes trailing behind her. She stopped at Draco's seat (a fluffy pouf that billowed out feathers through a split in the seam on the side) and said: " Dear, I'd prefer if you'd erase the words you wrote on the underside of my table."  
  
The class, already used to such extraordinary perception from the Professor, announced over Draco, who was erasing something now: " Please take out your books - the one with the picture of a palm on the cover?"  
  
" The weirdest one yet." Parvati muttered.  
  
" The most interesting, Parvati." Professor Trelawney corrected, though it seemed impossible for her to hear Parvati's murmur from the far corner of the room.  
  
" Now, page seven will show the basic lines of a human palm. Harry Potter, please try to keep from glancing out the window this class, even though you'll see Hermione outside. That's the purpose of the red mesh today." Professor Trelawney said.  
  
Harry's eyes widened. It was true, he had intended to sit by the window so he'd be able to pull aside the curtain and then see Hermione, who had signed up for a private lesson with Madame Hooch about Quidditch instead of Professor Trelawney's class, which Hermione deemed 'nutty'.  
  
" Class, as you can see, the human palm is divided into a few various segments. The basic ones are the more definite lines." The Professor rummaged through a large leather bag standing on the ground beside her, and then stood up with a notebook. " Here, Neville, you can write your notes in here, since you're so worried you'll forget."  
  
Neville gulped in surprise, then stood up and took the notebook, saying: " Thank you . . . "  
  
" The lines are: life line, head line, heart line, health line, fate line, fame line, marriage (love) line, money line, spirit line, travel line, luck line, and - ahem - " Professor Trelawney cleared her throat. " A line you'll learn about later in your life, perhaps, a more adult one."  
  
Malfoy laughed.  
  
" Alright, then, I want you all to follow the instructions on page seven to read your own palm. Reading other's palms gets more difficult, so be patient with your own first to get used to reading palms. The final term test will be to read a palm accurately without the book." Professor Trelawney kneeled down beside Harry. " Now, Harry, I want to see your hand. I feel something wrong coming."  
  
"Again? Oh, Potter, your life is living hell!" Malfoy shouted out. Crabbe and Goyle cackled harmoniously with his sly voice in the background.  
  
" Oh dear!" Professor Trelawney tapped Harry's outstretched palm with her finger. " An enemy will come into your life . . . ah, I see a friend's sacrifice!"  
  
" Please. This class is ridiculous enough without hearing the foibles of Harry's life." Draco stood up and then turned away from where Madame Trelawney was analyzing Harry Potter's hand. "This reeks. I'll be studying my own palm, instead of hearing about Harry. I get enough of him from other teachers."  
  
Harry didn't realize that other teachers might speak of him, too. He looked down at his hand an waited patiently as Madame Trelawney traced the line that was supposed to be love. She stopped at where it jagged off, then curled slightly upwards. "Hmm."  
  
" What is it?" Harry asked.  
  
" It seems a friend loves you." She told him. " Or, you love a friend. It's really either one."  
  
Hermione! I love Hermione! Harry thought deep inside himself, and hoped Madame Trelawney doesn't figure it out for herself. Though she probably knew it if she were any good of a psychic.  
  
" I'm your friend, aren't I, Harry?" Lavender shouted out.  
  
" Shut up, Lavender. We're all Harry's friends." Parvati smiled.  
  
" Class! I thought I told you to work on your palms?" Madame Trelawney shot up to her feet, an angry scowl on her face. " Don't make me yell! I'm going to have a sore throat next week anyway; I don't need to make it come early from yelling. Parvati, by the way . . . it was your Aunt Mabel that threw out your diary two years ago, not your cousin. Don't be angry at your cousin."  
  
" Aunt Mabel! I knew it!" Parvati gasped out.  
  
" Oh, brother." Neville grumbled. He was fumbling angrily with his own palm, which seemed to make no sense to him at all. "Does this mean I'll be a head case? Look at the line that stands for my head."  
  
The line was tapered off quite neatly in the center and then was continued off a bit ahead with a very crinkled line. Harry shrugged, but Draco spoke up:  
  
" You're already a head case, Longbottom."  
  
" Shut up, Malfoy." Harry burst out. " Do you have to ruin everyone else's mood because of yourself?"  
  
" Yes, as a matter of fact, I do, Potter. Have a problem?" Malfoy stood up, ready to cream Harry into mashed potatoes. Harry backed away. Malfoy walked closer to him, his sneering face close to Harry's: " Is there a problem, Potter? Not so brave now, are you?"  
  
Parvati said: " Leave Harry alone!"  
  
" Yeah! You're the one with a problem!" Neville announced.  
  
" Class! This is palm reading, not a circus!" Professor Trelawney called out. " Concentrate on your palms, not your mind's worries."  
  
" Will do." Harry ducked out of Malfoy's way and sat down back on his seat. The rest of the class, Malfoy kept staring at Harry with an evil grin on his face. Harry knew Malfoy wasn't going to let it off that easily - he'd beat Harry up, even, if he had to. *¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Lunchtime came abruptly after palm reading, and Neville nearly dragged Harry to the dining hall. "Why the rush?" Harry asked, as Neville finally let go of Harry's arm, in front of the Gryffindor table.  
  
" Are you kidding me? Aren't you totally hungry?" Neville's freckled cheeks reddened in surprise.  
  
" No, but that sure reminds me of someone." Harry rolled his eyes and sat down at the table. Quite a lot of students were there already, including Nick, Cho's cousin. Nick sat down directly in front of them, his big brown eyes peering intently at Harry.  
  
" Harry Potter?" Nick asked, meekly.  
  
" What is it?" Harry replied in question.  
  
" Cho wanted me to tell you that. that she and all her friends are signing a petition to have you be the next Gryffindor captain. They're not even in Gryffindor, but they'd like you to be captain." Nick said.  
  
" Really?" Neville exclaimed. " Harry, Cho must like you."  
  
" Get serious!" Harry shot back. " Me? I'm younger, I'm skinny, and I wear glasses, for Heaven's sakes. I mean, her past boyfriend - Ceddric - was perfect." Harry felt a bit sad again.  
  
Nick just stared at Harry for a while, then asked: " So! What do I tell her?"  
  
" Tell her thanks." Neville burst out.  
  
" Yeah, that sounds alright." Harry nodded.  
  
" Okay." Nick walked over to Cho's table, looking quite tired of being Cho's messenger boy. Before Harry could think about Cho any longer, someone caught his eye in the corner of the room. It was the girl, Rebecca Crick, Cho's close friend from Beauxbaxton. She was wrapped tightly in an old gray shawl and her over-painted eyelashes (she supposedly went through a tube of mascara a month) were fluttering around anxiously from beneath the shawl. She was looking for someone, or something.  
  
Then, Harry saw Rebecca look straight at him. Her eyes twinkled with delight, and she began to walk towards him. Harry quickly turned away, hoping that he was mistaken.  
  
" Harry?" She asked, her accent thick.  
  
" Oh! Hello." Harry turned around, nervous.  
  
" I vas vatching you from across the room, and I vanted to introduce myself. My name is Rebecca Crick." She held her hand out.  
  
Harry shook her hand and said: " I'm familiar with you, Rebecca."  
  
" Good." Rebecca replied, then quickly added: " I mean, it is a surprise to me! Vhy vould the famous Harry Potter know me?"  
  
" I dunno." Harry shrugged. " Hermione, my best friend, told me."  
  
" Hermione Granger?" Rebecca's eyes narrowed. " She is the very smart girl, yes?"  
  
" Yeah." Neville interrupted. " In fact, here she comes now!"  
  
Hermione walked up to them, and Harry was astounded. She had gone to her room and put on makeup! Her hair was braided nicely, and she had put on some sparkly light brown eye shadow, and her hair had a little glitter in it, too.  
  
" Hermione!" Harry said, softly, tenderly. " You look nice!"  
  
" Thanks." She blushed and then looked at Rebecca. " Oh! Rebecca Crick! I've heard that you'll be some competition with me from Professor McGonagall."  
  
" Yes, that's true." Rebecca said, stiffly. " I'm very intelligent, vhich is the main reason vhy I vas moved to this school."  
  
" I see." Hermione replied, equally stiff. " I hope you know I keep my marks tip-top, so it'll be pretty hard to top me." She gave a nervous laugh.  
  
" Vill it?" Rebecca asked, in a bored tone.  
  
Hermione bit her lower lip, then said: "Yes, it will."  
  
" Good. I like a challenge." Rebecca smiled and then turned to Harry. " I just vanted to introduce myself, and I'll be going. Perhaps we will see more of each other in this school."  
  
" Perhaps." Harry replied.  
  
Rebecca walked off, her shawl dragging on the floor. " She's going to regret that." Hermione said, pointing at the dragging shawl. " It'll get frayed."  
  
" Well, it's her problem." Harry then changed the subject: "Hermione, do you think I'll be a good captain for the Gryffindor team, if I'm picked?"  
  
" Sure!" Hermione assured him. " You're the best Quidditch player I'd ever seen, after all!"  
  
" I bet you'll get pretty good, too, if you keep trying." Harry told her. " I wasn't supposed to, but I kind of watched you play while I was in Professor Trelawney's class, near the end of it."  
  
" You watched me?" She looked embarrassed. " I'm not good now, right?"  
  
" Hmm . . . you're definitely not make-the-team material, but its looking promising." Harry said, trying to think like Oliver Wood would think when he'd have to tell someone in fancy that they're no good.  
  
" Thank you so much! I need the encouragement!" She exclaimed, and then hugged Harry tightly.  
  
" Whoa." Harry said, softly, breathing in the soft shampoo smell of her hair before she let go.  
  
" Students! May we have your attention!" Professor McGonagall said from the front of the room.  
  
The already-full room of students turned to face the speaker. Professor McGonagall brushed a graying strand of her hair back from her face before continuing. " We are tallying up the ballots, and the nominees for captains of the teams (Hufflepuff and Gryffindor need replacements, after all) will be the following. Harry Potter for Gryffindor, Rebecca Crick for Hufflepuff, James Spinner for Hufflepuff, George Weasley or Fred Weasley for Gryffindor. the Weasleys will return in four days from a visit to their older brother, so if the winner is a Weasley, the Quidditch games will be postponed. Also . . . "  
  
The list read on for two or three more people, then the speech ended with: " I hope you all have a good lunch and please consider to go vote for new captains. Thank you."  
  
" Vote for Harry!" Someone shouted from the corner of the room.  
  
Harry blushed and whispered to Hermione: " I didn't think people would want me to be captain so much."  
  
" Are you kidding me? You're the best player this school had ever had! I think I told you that already!" Hermione replied, loudly. Harry had to back away from her, for he was leaning close, thinking she'd whisper right back to him.  
  
The tables then burst open with food, and Neville exclaimed "Finally!" before digging in to a plate of spaghetti. The meal went by quickly, and then Harry and Hermione walked together to their next class: Defense against the Dark Arts, Fifth Year Special Class. For short, they called it 'Defense against the Dark Arts Five'.  
  
They wondered who the teacher might be. Draco Malfoy stood before the classroom, his arms crossed. As Harry walked in, Draco pushed him in the back, saying: " Potter! We have a score to settle!"  
  
" No we don't." Harry replied, stumbling away.  
  
" Yes we do!" Malfoy pushed him up against the wall, his cold blue eyes inches from Harry's, and he licked his lips. His knee pushed down on Harry's thigh. " I'll beat you hard if you ever, ever say shut up to me again. Nobody, and I mean nobody gets away with saying shut up - - to - - me - - " With the last three words, Draco poked his finger hard at Harry's forehead. " Get that through your thick, scarred head."  
  
" Harry, don't mind him." Hermione said, comfortingly, as Harry slowly moved away from Malfoy, who was now busy chasing a group of first years down the hall, with the assistance of Goyle. Crabbe had been taken to the nurse's office, for during lunch he dropped his wand and being an already malfunctioning wand, it zapped the Toothless Curse on him, leaving Crabbe's gums bare.  
  
" I know. Draco's a jerk." Harry said, and then slid into the seat in the farthest, most in-back corner of the room. Hermione faithfully sat down beside him.  
  
" I've been thinking that I should get my hair cut. It's getting too long." Hermione told him. " Do you think I should?"  
  
" Since when do you care so much?" Harry asked. He didn't mean it in a mean way, but Hermione seemed offended.  
  
" I'm a girl, Harry. Girls care." She replied.  
  
" Sorry, Herm. It's just not like you. The same goes for Quidditch." He dug into his pocket. " But - - if you think of cutting your hair, here's a poem for you."  
  
He put it down in front of her, and she read it:  
  
  
  
You're perfect, just the way you are  
  
You're lovely, a shining star!  
  
If you ever feel that you aren't yet  
  
Pretty or charming, don't you fret  
  
I assure you that you are,  
  
You're a lucky star  
  
And you  
  
  
  
The paper was ripped off right there. Hermione looked up at him and asked: "Where'd you get this?"  
  
" I wrote it. I sent it to a magazine that Mrs. Weasley orders. They asked for people to write poems about self-esteem and I thought: what the heck. Why don't I try?" Harry grinned. " Do you like it?"  
  
" It's really nice, but I don't have low self-esteem." She told him. " I just think I need to change my hair."  
  
" Don't you get it, though? I like your hair the way it is." Harry told her. He had written the poem based on her, after all, and he'd carried it around with him for a while now since it made him feel a little bit better, too.  
  
" You're really sweet, Harry." Hermione said, then turned away as the teacher walked into the room. It was Snape.  
  
" Sit down! Everyone sit down!" Snape said, then smiled, and not a bitter smile but a happy one. " I will be the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher until we find a good substitute. Will everyone open his or her books to the appropriate page? Page 24, please."  
  
The class cooperated, everyone scared stiff at the knowledge of another class entirely with Snape. Harry himself was the most horrified. The whole class, they simply read about senseless things, and they watched Snape beam and smile and speak softly to students and act totally unlike himself.  
  
" That was so weird!" Hermione finally said, once Harry and she were walking away from the class.  
  
" I know! Who'd have thought Snape could be nice?"  
  
" Harry! Oh, Harry!" Someone called from down the hall.  
  
Harry turned and saw Colin Creevey. Colin nearly ran over Hermione as he jumped up and down in front of Harry, shouting: "Harry! Harry! Oh, you're going to get so many people to vote for you! I'm signing a petition for you, too, Harry!"  
  
" Gosh, calm down, kid." Hermione said. " I think that Dumbledor shouldn't let the kids drink cocoa for lunch. . . I mean, look at the results!"  
  
" I know!" Harry whispered back.  
  
" Well, gotta go - Potions next. I hear Snape's being nice today! Yippee!" Colin ran down the hall, the camera around his neck bouncing up and down. Suddenly, he braked, and turned to snap a picture of Harry. " I'll put your picture on the petition! Don't worry, Harry, you're a sure winner!"  
  
" Don't worry, Harry! Ooh, Harry! Drool, drool, drool!" A sneering, drawling voice rang out. Harry knew right away that Malfoy was teasing Colin right down the hall.  
  
" Let's go, Harry. Colin can take care of himself." Hermione said, putting her hand on Harry's shoulder.  
  
" Yeah, you're right." Harry smiled at her.  
  
" What class do you have next?" She asked him.  
  
" I'm gonna have Herbology. I had my classes switched up a bit then the original order, so that Herbology would be last, since the plants always spew all that green gunk on me and then I walk around all gross." Harry said. Hermione laughed. "What about you?"  
  
" I have Mathematics - advanced Mathematics." She grinned. " I'm so happy! Finally, a class that's a true challenge."  
  
" I'll say." Harry was now standing in front of the Herbology room. " Well, I'll see you later, Hermione."  
  
" Goodbye, Harry!" She waved to him, and he walked into Herbology.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The class ended quickly, and Harry was free to do whatever he wished until dinner. He went up to his common room and began to do his homework.  
  
Suddenly, Hedgwig burst into the room from the owlery. "Hedgwig!" Harry exclaimed.  
  
The snowy owl settled on his desk and dropped a letter down before him. Hedgwig gave a low hoot and then scratched at the white envelope with his talons.  
  
" Alright, alright, I'll check it out." Harry told his owl. Hedgwig sat patiently as Harry tried to open the letter. After struggling to tear it open, he pulled an old, thin and very yellowed paper out. When he held it up his eyes couldn't have seen something more joyous: a letter from Sirius!  
  
He read:  
  
  
  
" Dear Harry,  
  
How is everything? If you must know, I'm fine, Buckbeak is  
  
fine, and I hope you're doing well. My name might eventually be  
  
cleared - and if it happens, then I will take you to live with me.  
  
How would you like that? Perhaps another year or so, Harry, but  
  
soon you will be able to never worry about the Dursleys again.  
  
Sirius Black  
  
  
  
Harry nearly burst with excitement and joy at the thought of another year and then. he'd be with his godfather, his closest adult friend, and also most trusted adult friend. Harry smiled and pulled out a paper to write back.  
  
  
  
Dear Sirius,  
  
Thank you for the letter. I'm all right; I'm glad  
  
that you're doing well. I'll be absolutely delighted to get  
  
rid of the Dursleys, once and for all! You don't know  
  
how horrible they'd been lately to me.  
  
I'm sending this with Hedgwig, but the next one  
  
I'll just have to send with Sunny, Hermione's owl. I  
  
hope it'll be trained enough by then, since last time,  
  
Sunny came with a letter to me and gave it to Aunt  
  
Petunia instead.  
  
I still shudder.  
  
They're electing a new Quidditch captain for  
  
the Gryffindor team and I'm nominated. There's word  
  
around the school that a majority of students is going  
  
to vote for me. I hope I'll be a good captain, if I win.  
  
Well, that's about all that's new. Thanks for  
  
the letter!  
  
Harry  
  
  
  
Harry enveloped the letter and then told Hedgwig: "To Sirius, alright?"  
  
The owl hooted happily and flew off out the window again. Finally, the little creature was getting to stretch its wings, truly and fully. 


	2. Captain and a Fight

1 Chapter 2  
  
2 Captain  
  
  
  
There was a sound similar to the shrill whistle of the Hogwarts Express train and then something bulldozed right onto Harry's bed, quick as lightning and twice as shocking. "Wake up, lazy buns!"  
  
Harry's eyes flew open and settled on a shapeless mass, balanced on his bed before him like a statue. He couldn't see who it was, and the voice seemed garbled due to how he was so sleepy. His hand groped the side-table beside his bed for his glasses, and he quickly put them on.  
  
The image on his bed transformed into Hermione, fully dressed in her Hogwarts uniform, her hair up in a tidy bun, her eyes sparkling and ready. " Come on, Harry! You can't seriously be tired still! Today's the day the captain is announced!"  
  
" Is it?" Harry barely managed to groan out, blinking away the last traces of sleep from his eyes.  
  
" Yes! Don't you remember anything?" Hermione tossed his pillow at him. " Stand up and get dressed! Everyone's already eating breakfast."  
  
" How could I have overslept?" Harry wondered to himself.  
  
" I don't know but if you don't hurry up I'll leave." Hermione tapped her foot on the ground.  
  
" You're wearing high heels." Harry noticed.  
  
" So?" She flushed.  
  
" Nothing." Harry quickly said, then stepped into the little room off to the side where he could change. Through the closed door, Hermione told him:  
  
" They're counting ballots already."  
  
" Really?" Harry struggled through his sleep to put on his robe, only to notice it was inside out. He mumbled something under his breath about how tired he was and then pulled the robe on correctly.  
  
" Are you coming out or not?" Hermione asked.  
  
" Yes, I am!" Harry burst out the door, his glasses askew on his nose, his hair even more messy then ever.  
  
She giggled and smoothed down the front of his bangs with her hand. "You look so cute."  
  
" Thanks." He said, sarcastically, and rolled his eyes. " I don't think I'd ever looked worse."  
  
" Believe me, you have." She teased, and then pushed him to the door. "Now let's go!"  
  
Harry emerged from behind the portrait of the fat lady, said a nice "Goodbye" to her (the fat lady waved and yawned back), and then they raced down the steps and into the dining hall.  
  
Breakfast had just finished and Harry slid down by a seat at the end of the table, with Hermione right beside him. Professor McGonagall stepped up to the front of the room and held up an envelope. "We have the winner of the Gryffindor captain position and Hufflepuff captain position. Attention, please!"  
  
The room fell into a silence.  
  
The envelope rustled inside Professor McGonagall's hands as she opened it, then she read: " For Hufflepuff, the winner is. Rebecca Crick. And Gryffindor, by far, was Harry Potter!"  
  
The whole room burst into applause, and Harry felt as if his heart had stopped. Then, with the push of the hands of his friends and even strangers, Harry was slowly maneuvered to the front of the room. The great hall whipped by him, banners dancing shadows across students' faces, the ceiling now illuminated with a spell so that it looked like they were outside on a sunny day, with small cotton candy clouds.  
  
Harry stepped out onto the platform, and Professor McGonagall said to him, quietly: "Now, Harry, I'm sure you've planned out an acceptance speech?"  
  
Not knowing what else to say without getting somewhat into trouble, Harry nodded.  
  
" Good." Professor McGonagall's wrinkled and stern face now turned up in a smile, though still a bit stern smile. The whole audience was looking up towards Harry and Rebecca Crick. She seemed just about as cool as a cucumber, and Harry wondered how she could possibly be so secure and unworried.  
  
" I think Rebecca Crick should begin with a speech. She, as a champion Quidditch player from Beauxbaxton, will add many new strategies to the Hufflepuff team, I'm sure." Dumbledore said.  
  
The Hufflepuff table burst into applause. Rebecca waved to her friends (Cho stood up and cheered loudly), and then the whole room became silent in an anxious wait for the speeches.  
  
" I, coming here, had very few vorries. I knew Hogvarts vas a very good school, and that once they saw my Quidditch skills, they'd allow me to join their teams. Never, though, had I thought I'd be captain!" Rebecca read aloud from a little paper she set up for herself. " I vill very gladly defend our team and our school! Go Hufflepuff!"  
  
The Hufflepuff table all stood in a standing ovation. The other tables clapped politely, except Slytherin, which had mostly coughs and rude remarks.  
  
" And now, Harry Potter." Dumbledore gently took Rebecca's elbow and pulled her back so that Harry could step up to the very center of the front of the room. Harry's ears burned. He searched his pockets, pretending that he was looking for his speech. Inside his left pocket he found a wrapper from the Chocolate Frog he ate on the train and a very dirty-looking jellybean which he didn't eat for it appeared to be moldy bread flavored. He searched his other pocket, and out fluttered the piece of paper with the poem that he'd shared with Hermione. It was perfect for appearing as a short, easy speech. Harry held it in front of him and slightly on a tilt so that Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall couldn't read the true writing on the paper.  
  
Harry began, after clearing his throat in front of the absolutely silent room. " I . . . am very thankful for this honor for being captain. I never thought I'd be a captain, I barely expected to be anything at all. Already I . . . I . . . " Harry's mind whirred with thoughts as to what he should say. The room waited in a lull, but somewhere in the corner Harry heard Draco, Crabbe and Goyle all go into coughing fits, very coincidentally with the time he paused his speech. " I . . . I've been Seeker, which seemed like just about the greatest thing I could be." Harry continued. " Now I am corrected, I'm captain of Gryffindor. I'm grateful for all the votes for me . . . Go Gryffindor!"  
  
The room burst into applause. Even Professor McGonagall cheered. " Well done, Harry. Interesting speech. How did it fit on such a small paper?" She asked Harry, once the cheering died down.  
  
" Oh, I don't know." Harry shrugged.  
  
People surged towards Harry and Rebecca, pushing their hands out, waiting to shake hands and congratulate the new Captains. Hands of all sizes brushed onto Harry's - people with warm fingers, people with icy fingers, some with rings that scratched, others with blisters that felt a bit odd to the touch. He saw Hermione's face in the grounds and pushed towards her. "Herm! I did it! I'm captain!" He exclaimed to her.  
  
" I knew you could do it!" She grinned and then shook his hand. " Congratulations, Harry."  
  
" Thanks." Harry smiled shyly. More hands made their ways into Harry's. Then, suddenly, a particularly cold one felt his fingers, a touch he seemed to remember from somewhere. The hand frightened the reality from him - it was so moist and clammy it was almost soaking in sweat, and yet, it was so unbearably frozen to the touch that Harry didn't quite know what to call it.  
  
A low, slimy voice, similar to the one in his dream, let out a slithering, single word: " Harry . . . "  
  
Then, suddenly, Harry felt his body lurch forwards, almost completely devoid of any life of its own. Thin screams echoed in his mind, people panicking as he collapsed onto the floor. His knees gave a hollow thud that echoed in his ears, then his scar seemed to erupt with a painful fire as he fell onto his face.  
  
His eyes looked up, and he struggled to get up, but his body seemed different, not his own. But from the corner of his left eye he could see the tall, black, lace-up shoes with the golden buttons - Voldemort's shoes.  
  
Harry tried to identify the shoes to a single owner, but when he looked closer, they were gone. He was seeing things.  
  
" Harry? Are you alright?" Dumbledore was pushing through the crowd.  
  
By now, Harry felt his scar thunder once again, and then he saw something pooling under his face, something maroon in color and quickly spreading on the floor. Then, he only saw black.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The insides of Harry's eyelids turned orange-yellow and his eyes shot open, surprised at the pour of sunlight that was shining onto him. Almost immediately, he propped himself up, looking around himself wildly. " What happened?" He asked aloud.  
  
" You ask me!" Hermione was sitting beside his bed, her eyes red and puffy. " It was you that was doing the thing that was happening. You should know."  
  
" I . . . I don't know. I fell." Harry's hand moved upwards to his forehead, which felt tight. His fingers felt the stretchy, soft material of a bandage over his scar, wrapping around and tied in back, the knot hurting his head.  
  
" You were bleeding, Harry. From your scar!" Hermione said.  
  
" I must have cut it open when I fell." Harry reasoned.  
  
" Must you ruin the mysterious moment?" Hermione laughed, pushing a strand of brown hair back from her face.  
  
" I really think that this is nothing to get worked up about." Harry tried to sit up farther then just an awkward balance on his elbows but he dropped back instead and his cheek slapped against his pillow.  
  
" Harry, you'll be in here for the day. Madame Pomfrey isn't done mending you up. The blow to your scar will leave a mark unless she works on it."  
  
" But my classes!" He grumbled.  
  
" I'll come give you notes from the classes we share." Hermione assured his worries.  
  
" I hate falling behind. Especially any class with Snape. He's absolutely nuts, that's why. He'll kill me. Strangle me." Harry let out a slow, wavering breath. " He hates me, you know."  
  
" You're just imagining, Harry!" Hermione said. " Snape's all crusty and bitter on the outside, but I'm sure he doesn't really have that much hatred inside. There's just people like that in this world, just like there's some of those incredibly nice people that dump all their things if they can help someone."  
  
" Yeah." Harry hugged the covers closer to himself. " You don't think that. something's wrong? Very wrong?"  
  
" What do you mean?"  
  
" My scar really shouldn't be hurting this bad." Harry replied.  
  
" Wait. You feel because of your scar? I thought you tripped. Everyone out there . . ." Hermione pointed out the door at a large crowd of students bustling to classes. " . . . thinks you were so nervous you stumbled."  
  
" It was my scar." Harry told her, in a low and secretive voice.  
  
" Oh, man. that changes a lot of things." Hermione sighed, her eyes looking downwards. " You don't think that You-Know-Who's gonna go after you or something?"  
  
" Well, I don't know!" Harry burst out. " Professor Trelawney told me a whole bunch of nonsense yesterday about how she sees misfortune coming up and friend's sacrifices . . ."  
  
" Not her again." Hermione looked around to see if Madame Pomfrey was near, then told Harry in a voice many tones lower then she normally spoke: " Professor Trelawney is a joke. She probably gets all her fortunes from the horoscopes in magazines or something. Really, for someone like you to believe that garbage."  
  
" I wouldn't be so sure about that. I mean - I'm not a chicken or anything, but I don't know if I should be captain anymore. I should sort of blend back because Volde - - You-Know-Who is free as a caboose." Harry shivered. His fingertips felt freezing-cold, and when he clenched his fists together, the cold practically froze his hands. " Madame Pomfrey really should put some spell on this room to keep it warmed up."  
  
" It's not that bad." Hermione was dressed in her warmest clothing.  
  
" How'd you get out of class, anyway?" Harry asked.  
  
She shrugged. " Professor McGonagall told me she'll take care of things and that I can go see you."  
  
" Did other people come see me?" Harry already knew the answer, for the floor had dozens of muddy tracks on it which led somewhat close to his bed then back out of the room.  
  
" Yeah, a few. Most teachers didn't let their students out of class to see you, though." Hermione stood up and then went to pick up a little crystal bowl that stood perched on an end table. " I brought some jelly beans, the kind you like."  
  
" Oh. Thanks." Harry took a handful and tried the first one from the top. " Gross! Peanut butter!"  
  
" You don't like peanut butter?" She asked.  
  
" No! It's horrible. Especially the creamy kind!" He tried another one. " Take some for yourself, too."  
  
" I guess I will." She didn't seem too eager to try it herself. Hermione had always had bad luck with Bertie Bott's Jelly Beans - she ended up with all the worst ones.  
  
" Well, if it isn't a romantic meeting between Mudblood and Potter." A voice all too-familiar sounded from the doorway. Harry said, not looking up:  
  
" Go away, Malfoy."  
  
" What are you doing here, anyway? Not to see Harry, from what I know." Hermione asked.  
  
" From what I know." Draco repeated, in a high falsetto voice. " I know everything! I'm the great know-all Mudblood!"  
  
" Stop calling me that." She said, firmly.  
  
" If you have to know, I'm here to see Crabbe. He got zapped with the Toothless curse, remember?" Draco looked at Harry with contempt. " You look absolutely pitiful."  
  
" Thanks." Harry shot back, unmoved.  
  
" That wasn't a compliment, you fool!" Draco looked visibly upset.  
  
" Thanks again." Harry knew if there was one thing that made Draco Malfoy steam behind his collar, it was to take his insults as if they were compliments. The same went for the Dursleys - the more Harry seemed to enjoy their abuse, the less they did it for it discouraged them.  
  
" Maa - fooo!" A strange voice called out.  
  
" Oh, Crabbe, you dimwit." Malfoy groaned. " How are we gonna put a snake in McGonagall's office with you in this shape? It spoils a week's worth of fun."  
  
Malfoy walked over to Crabbe's bed, his eyes studying the damage on his friend. " Smile for me, Crabbe." Malfoy finally ordered.  
  
Crabbe did, revealing a mouth full of tiny white caps that didn't come out more then two millimeters above the gums. Crabbe's teeth had only begun to come in and the speeded-up growth time would be another eight or so hours. Harry could remember the pain of growing teeth from his own childhood, though rather bleakly, and so he knew how awful it was if the pain was multiplied about a hundred times or so, judging by how much less time it would take with the speeding-up.  
  
" What are you staring at? Mind your own business!" Malfoy snarled, seeing how Harry was looking at Crabbe's reddened, swollen and painful gums.  
  
" I'm not staring." Harry replied, and then turned away from Malfoy and Crabbe to speak to Hermione: " You should go."  
  
" You're right. There's not much that I can say with HIM here." She looked up at Draco with a grimace on her face. " But. . . I do think that you should tell Dumbledore about the burning in your scar."  
  
" I know, I know." Harry suddenly turned around again for Malfoy was speaking to him:  
  
" By the way, I think you should can it with the fainting trick. It worked with the Dementors, but now its growing old."  
  
" I didn't fake it!" Harry protested, then added, under his breath: " Jerk."  
  
" I heard that." Malfoy approached Harry's bed and stared into his eyes angrily. " We still have a score to settle, scar-face, so you better stay out of my way."  
  
Hermione had by now stood up and was ready to leave, so she said: " I'll be going, so I can continue writing notes down for you - Snape did mention ghastly amounts of notes."  
  
" Take care." Harry told her, then turned back to find Malfoy helping himself to the jellybeans Hermione had left behind on the end table. " Hey!"  
  
" Hay's for horses, Potter." Malfoy stuck another jellybean into his mouth, then spit it out. " Agh! Black pepper! You can have it, Harry." He threw it down on Harry's bedspread. It rolled down and into his shoe.  
  
" Serves you right." Harry laughed as Draco hobbled off to the corner of the room to sit down and remove the candy from his boot.  
  
" Draco, honey, I advise you return to your classes, too." Madame Pomfrey said from the doorway.  
  
Once Malfoy was gone, Harry spent a good time sorting the jellybeans from Hermione into little groups, then grew so bored he decided to get up and walk around.  
  
He felt weak, and his muscles were all worn out for some strange reason, but he managed. Madame Pomfrey saw him, though, and Harry had to spend the rest of the day helping her sort bed sheets by size, so that they'd match to the various-sized beds.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The next day, Harry went seamlessly through his classes, not really having the day go either way - not a good one, not a bad one. Other then a load of homework from Herbology, he was surprised with how little work he had left to do. Deciding to go to the procrastinating side of him (just a bit of it there), and went to take a walk around the Hogwarts grounds. It was a great day to be outside, after all, and there was at least an hour until dinnertime.  
  
Just as he walked into his common room (he had to say 'Cricket Elbow' a good ten times before the fat lady woke up inside her painting), and right after dropping his bag down onto the floor with a thump, he was surprised to see Neville engrossed in a book.  
  
" Neville?" Harry asked.  
  
The boy looked up, and then said: " Oh, hi, Harry. I'm just trying to study a bit for Potions."  
  
" You hate Potions!"  
  
" Snape's being nice lately. I wanna take the advantage and get on his good side. It's really for the best of it." He flipped the page. " Harry, what's a. . . Whilltilly, again?"  
  
" It's a beet with bones." The taller of the two boys replied.  
  
" Thanks." Neville scribbled a few notes in the margin of his book with a quill, then set the book down. " Where are you going, anyway?"  
  
" Just for a walk." Harry motioned outside through the open window in the common room. " Can't you see how nice it is?"  
  
" Not really. My grandmother says it isn't really healthy to stay out in very bright sunlight. It'll give you the most awful freckles. I've enough to worry about right now, anyway." Neville grumbled unhappily.  
  
" You shouldn't worry so much. Your brain will shrivel up and fall out your nose - like a raisin." Harry's hand shot up to his forehead to adjust his bandage, which had slipped down awkwardly. He was to wear it for a few more hours, just until the spell was done and the ugly mark from his fall will disappear, leaving him with only the original lighting-bolt scar.  
  
" Raisins. I hate those." Neville sniffled loudly. " Do you smell that?"  
  
Harry looked sickened. " Who smelt it dealt it."  
  
" No! What I mean is. I could swear that I could smell something burning." Neville shrugged. " The kitchen elves make mistakes, though. Or maybe Hagrid's gotten another dragon."  
  
" Hagrid. . . I know! I should go see him. He's probably down ever since Dumbledore pulled out on his class. It's just been too accident prone, and all."  
  
" You do that." Neville pulled his book open again. " I have MAJOR studying to do."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The sunlight indeed was exceedingly bright outside. Harry's arm went up immediately in an instinct to shield his eyes from the brightness. The whole Hogwarts grounds looked magical at this time of the year, and he wanted to get a good glimpse of things. He'd forgotten how red tree leaves could get and how crystal-clear the blue sky could be as clouds rolled lazily across, some small little stretches of cottony white, others long and spattered like fish scales.  
  
Just as Hagrid's little hut came into view, Harry's attention drifted to the bushes nearby. Instead of the usual peace and quiet, someone was making an unnatural amount of noise. Now even an elephantine bird could rustle a bush that way.  
  
Then again, forest creatures would often wander out of the lush woods in order to feed on the fall growth of grass. The Hogwarts staff had no problem with it, for the grass would end up dying anyhow over the winter.  
  
Suddenly, Harry heard the one voice that he most certainly didn't expect: " So, out for a stroll?"  
  
" I just want to see Hagrid." Harry replied to the light-haired boy, who was advancing towards Harry with a suspiciously quick gait. " So leave me alone."  
  
Now that Malfoy was out in the open, Harry saw that Goyle accompanied him. Goyle's mouth was opened stupidly as he gawked at Harry.  
  
" I see you brought along your fan club." Harry said, stiffly. "You have a way of attracting only a certain class of followers."  
  
" You be quiet, Potter. We have a fight to carry out. You've done something nobody had dared do - you called me a jerk. You cast the Evacus spell on me. Then, you told me to shut up. I say I have the perfect right to knock you to your senses - literally."  
  
" Not if I can help it!" Harry turned and was ready to run but Malfoy was quicker. His hand slapped down onto Harry's back and Harry skidded, his foot diving into a giant mud puddle and then sinking down to at least mid- calf. The mud oozed out a single bubble near the top.  
  
" Oh, but you can't help it." Malfoy then slowly stepped closer, giving Harry a powerful shove backwards. The blow caught Harry off guard and he pummeled back onto his side, his leg popping out from the mud and splashing brown dirt all over Malfoy's white breeches.  
  
" You oaf!" Malfoy choked out. "My new pants!"  
  
" You should have saved them for a happy occasion. Like your funeral." Harry had by now stepped back and tried to slink away like a cat, still proud, still full of an elegance of valor yet submissiveness in a wise retreat. " Goyle can make a casket."  
  
" Bring your own casket!" Malfoy hissed. " You're the one going down!"  
  
" I don't want to fight." Harry sighed.  
  
" Too bad!" Malfoy's hand grasped Harry's robes right under the chin and he slowly lifted Harry up an inch from the ground. Despite how it made Harry angry, Malfoy was stronger then him.  
  
" What are you doing? Do you want us kicked out of school?" Harry gasped.  
  
" I have a witness." Malfoy motioned with a smug face at Goyle. Goyle was standing like the idiot he was, casually picking his nose, the perfect example of the best witness to have - stupid and easy to manipulate. Malfoy continued, a bit upset at how his witness appeared: " My witness will say anything I want him to, just the way it happened - according to me! I can make it look just as if you're to blame."  
  
Harry's face ran with sweat as he struggled to get out of Malfoy's tight grasp. The fingers holding his collar grew tighter together until Harry couldn't breathe, except for tight wheezes deep in his throat. " Nobody will believe Goyle! He's a complete fool!"  
  
" Oh! Now you insult my friends! Smart move." Malfoy let go of Harry and he fell to the ground.  
  
Harry knew this was to either be beaten to a pulp or to fight back. Either way, it was a no win-no win situation. So, with fear clutching his insides, Harry punched out at Malfoy's legs.  
  
Malfoy tried to back away but the punch hit him in the shin. "No fair! I wasn't looking." Malfoy hopped backwards, then lunged towards Harry, his fingers digging into Harry's hair, pulling hard.  
  
" Ow!" Harry kicked upwards into Malfoy's stomach and Malfoy flipped over him. Harry jumped up and then ran. His feet thundered, his heart exploded with every beat, but he kept going. Before he could reach Hagrid's hut, though, Malfoy had caught up and pushed him down. Then, sitting down on the ground beside Harry, he punched blindly at the black-haired boy. Harry's glasses flew into the grass, and he was nearly blinded. Also, his eyes were directed at the sun and he couldn't see anyhow.  
  
Finally, just as Harry wondered when he'll die, Draco stopped hitting him and cried out: " Run!"  
  
Then, he jumped to his feet and raced with Goyle down the Hogwarts grounds, his robes billowing in the wind. Harry sat up, cringing in pain, his fingers touching the cut on his lip, then drawing upwards to the stream of blood going down from his nose.  
  
" Harry! Harry, are ya alright there?" Hagrid called out.  
  
" Hagrid! It was Malfoy! He. he." Harry couldn't speak anymore. His hurt pride, the pain he felt inside his heart, everything was exploding from him now.  
  
" Ay, Harry, must ya always be the center of attetnion? Yer not gettin' off too easy from this all." Hagrid's giant hand reached out to Harry. Harry took it and then stood up shakily.  
  
" Yer a mess!" Hagrid continued. " Y'know this ain't gonna go over well with Professor McGonagall, eh?"  
  
Harry just nodded.  
  
" Well, say something."  
  
Harry shrugged. " What's there to say? I feel like an idiot."  
  
Far off in the distance, Malfoy and Goyle were racing up into the Hogwarts main entrance, both looking as if they'd seen a ghost. Harry turned to ask Hagrid: " You saw them, didn't you? It wasn't my fault. They were beating ME!"  
  
" Of course it ain't yer fault, Harry." Hagrid sighed. " Draco has his band o' followers, and a powerful father, though. If they can get someone in trouble, it's you."  
  
" Why?" Harry asked.  
  
" I don't rightly know. Yer always so much better then Draco ever was that he's jealous." Hagrid had by now managed to push Harry into his humble cabin.  
  
Once inside, Hagrid treated the more bloody of Harry's injuries, while telling him a few moral stories to abide the time. Then, Hagrid took Harry's glasses from outside and tried to fix them with tape but the glass crumbled completely and one side of the glasses was completely devoid of any glass.  
  
By the time Harry had left Hagrid's cabin, his head was full of thought and his hands were full of ice, which was wrapped in a cloth and which he kept bringing up to his lip to keep it from swelling. Soon he and Neville would both have fat, swollen lips. But it didn't matter now. Harry just wanted to go to his room and fall asleep.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The dining hall was alit with merry candles. Harry tried to sneak by through the back passageways, but before he could go very far, someone said: " Oh! Look who's here!"  
  
Harry turned, expecting the worst, and saw Ginny. " Ginny!" Harry exclaimed. " You're here! That means Ron's here!"  
  
" That's right. We're here early." She suddenly narrowed her eyes. " What's wrong with your lip? It doesn't look right."  
  
" It doesn't matter. How's Charlie?" Harry asked.  
  
" He's alright now, but I'm not really supposed to say what happened to him until the Ministry of Magic gets through with processing the information." Ginny then winked. " I'm sure Ron will fill you in on any secret, naturally."  
  
" Thanks Ginny." Harry smiled and she waved to him as he raced to his common room.  
  
Indeed, he found Ron unpacking in the common room, his bag lying wide open and dozens of sweaters and odd-fitting pants strewn on his bed. Ron turned at the sound of footsteps and nearly killed Harry when he ran towards him: " Oh, Harry! Where'd you go? I was going crazy to find you! I have so much to tell you, its not even funny!"  
  
" What happened with Charlie?" Harry asked, seriously.  
  
" Oh, it's the weirdest thing." Ron sat down on his bed, using his hand to push away at least a dozen sweaters, all stacked up one on another on his bed. " First, though, what happened to your lip? And your whole face, for that matter?"  
  
" What do you mean? I always look this way." Harry joked, trying to look as if he were authentically angry though he really wasn't.  
  
" You do?" Ron looked a bit upset, as if wondering if he should apologize or if it were a joke.  
  
" Just kidding." Harry said. " Actually, I had a bit of a fight with Draco."  
  
" Really? Tell me what happened! Did you win?" Ron's face lightened up with hope at news of having Draco Malfoy beaten to a pulp by his archenemy.  
  
Harry started saying the whole story over again, his memory clicking along with the events in the order they happened. Then, he paused. " I. I didn't win."  
  
" You didn't?" Ron gaped at him in surprise.  
  
" Nope. In fact, I lost about as bad as possible. If Hagrid hadn't come along, I'd look twice as bad." Harry shivered at the thought. " My glasses are ruined, by the way."  
  
" They look fine to me." Ron said.  
  
Harry poked his finger in through the side of his glasses where there was no longer any glass.  
  
" Oh, wow! You're lucky you didn't get any of the glass in your eye." Ron exclaimed.  
  
" I know." Harry sighed. " Now, that's not what I wanted to talk about. Tell me about Charlie!"  
  
" Well, it's a long story. here goes."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
" Alright, Harry. You know how the Ministry of Magic contacts my dad the minute something's up and not the way it should be, either? Well, the minute something happened to Charlie, my dad got a message.  
  
" To me, it was strange the way my dad came home all upset and almost deranged to an extent. He took my mum to a side room and they talked for goodness-knows how long! Ginny and I had sneaked up to the kitchen doorway to listen, but I couldn't really catch anything since Fred was upstairs with George, working away on some new prank thing.  
  
" Did I tell you, by the way, about how Fred ended up setting his desk on fire that day? No? Well, he did. Anyway, finally, when my mother and father decided it was only right to tell us why they were being so weird and secretive, they took us all into the kitchen and they something about how Charlie is ill and we should all go to see him in Norway.  
  
" Of course, I thought it was a normal illness, not some huge mumbo- jumbo. Heck, I didn't really worry that much at all. We took the Floo Powder way to Norway, you know, right into Charlie's office. He works with dragons, you know that already.  
  
" It appears that Charlie had been working at his desk for a long time, and getting real tired, trying to document the new English Whitescale they got. I don't think I told you about that either.  
  
" Aye, it's a beautiful dragon. White as snow, I'm telling you. To top it off, it was just about twenty feet tall and twice that wide. Charlie was talking on and on about it.  
  
" Moving on, it seems someone took the English Whitescale for some reason from Charlie. He was watching it, trying to sketch a picture of it while it dozed off; Charlie does those kinds of things. Just as he was nearly done sketching, a big shadow appeared on his paper. He turned, expecting to see a friendly face, but saw two red eyes.  
  
" You-Know-Who kind of eyes, you know.  
  
" Then, a white bony hand yanked his notebook from his hands and thew it at the English Whitescale. That's right, just whipped the notebook at the poor beast. The dragon woke up with a roar, and let me tell you, dragons don't like getting woken up with a notebook in the old block.  
  
" The dragon kind of tried to attack the weirdo that slammed the notebook into it, but the creepy guy took out his wand and cast a spell on the dragon. It immediately became really peaceful and soothed. The stranger climbed onto the dragon's back and then flew away. But just as he was flying away, he aimed a spell at Charlie. He missed Charlie, though, but it was some sort of really powerful spell and it still had some effect on him.  
  
" You know what spell it was, Harry? Avada Kedavra, that's what. That's what the Ministry of Magic thinks, and so that's what I think!  
  
" Charlie was unconscious when they found him. He's really scratched up on the face and arms and stuff, because he fell down. What's worse is that. . . that . . . the stranger left a scar the shape of the Dark Mark on him.  
  
" Oh! Charlie is so embarrassed! He'll walk around with the Dark Mark on his cheek for a week or so before the Ministry of Magic decides to zap the scar off by magic or leave it for evidence in case of anything.  
  
" Now, I don't know what you think, but I think that it's He-Who- Shall-Not-Be-Named that came to attack Charlie. So, of course, the Ministry of Magic, and my dad especially, are busting their brains trying to solve this thing. It's really hard to figure why the Dark Lord needs an English Whitescale dragon, for goodness sakes.  
  
" My dad, though, thinks that it's all to frighten you. I mean, you're close friends with my family, and You-Know-Who doesn't really like you much anyway, if you know what I mean. Maybe he just wanted to creep you out, to keep you on your toes in fear.  
  
" But I don't know, Harry, this is all really scary to me now. You- Know-Who nearly killed Charlie, and now the Ministry is questioning everything from him, and also my whole family, and they might even question you.  
  
" Did your scar burn or anything? Did you sense anything with You- Know-Who connected to it? You did? Oh, gosh, I'm creeped out, seeing you nod your head like that. You're serious? Drat.  
  
" You-Know-Who isn't going to just take a dragon, almost kill Charlie, and then suddenly think 'Hey, I guess I caused enough panic. I think I'll go take a nap'. No! He's going to be back, Harry. If he doesn't have second thoughts about killing Charlie, he'll go after you.  
  
" Harry? Harry, are you paying attention?  
  
" Good. This is going to give me a sore throat in the end, saying a speech this long and all, but I really feel that I need to speak with you about this.  
  
" You see.  
  
" I'm worried about you, Harry. I'm worried that You-Know-Who's getting too powerful. And he's free. Free as a bird, come in the snap of a finger, poof, you're dead.  
  
" So, Harry, what I'm saying is, I think that this all just proves that you should keep out of the spotlight. In every which and way possible. In fact, I think you should completely avoid making any particular notice of yourself. And, for Heaven's sakes, speak with Dumbledore. Talk to him.  
  
" He'll help you, Harry. I know he will. He cares."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Ron's long, frightening, and shocking speech left Harry feeling numb to the senses. He swallowed hard, his eyes studying Ron with worry. " I'm putting your family in danger, aren't I?"  
  
" Harry, that matters about as much as the fact that I'll get a sore throat from that speech. I just want you to know we, your friends, are here for you." Ron sighed, then coughed. " I think we should go to dinner. Whatever you do, don't tell anyone about Charlie. Not Hermione, not Neville. Nobody! Promise?"  
  
" I promise." 


	3. Midnight Manuevers

Author's Note: No I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own most of these characters. I do like the title 'Midnight Maneuvers' though, because it sounds cool. I guess it relates to what happens later on, but its not a major part of the story.  
  
1 Chapter 3  
  
Midnight Maneuvers  
  
  
  
It had begun to rain that night, and well into the next day as Harry got up to go to breakfast. As he passed Ron's bed, he gave his sleeve a tug, for Ron had a tendency to not hear the bell in the morning (the wake- up call).  
  
Harry then went to dress into his uniform, which was lying on a chair beside his bed. Once he was wearing the right attire, he turned to tell Ron, who had by now managed to get his eyes open: "I'm going to go to breakfast now. Unless you want me to wait."  
  
" No, you can go." Ron sat up with the energy of a sloth. "I'd probably hold you back. Not much of a morning person, you know."  
  
" I can see that." Harry grasped a comb and ran it through his hair, then gave up when every single strand on his head slowly flowed back into its original position.  
  
Once he had managed to get past the portrait of the fat lady (she was still drowsy from a long night, for Neville forgot the password and stayed by the fat lady until two in the morning, begging her to let him in).  
  
The dining hall smelled wonderful of candles and incense. Behind him, Malfoy was entering, but he reacted differently: "Ew! Who died?"  
  
" It's just candles. They make it smell very nice." A thick accent spoke back to Mafloy.  
  
As much as Harry didn't want to look at Draco right now, he had to turn around to see what Rebecca Crick would be doing with Draco, out of all people. They were walking together, Draco looking about as pleased with himself as a person could possibly be.  
  
Rebecca had a strange taste in boys, obviously, because Draco was not only the most unpleasant boy Harry could even think of, but at the same time two years younger then her, so at least three inches shorter (Draco was tall for his age, but not that tall). And now, with Rebecca wearing high heels, Draco was at least four inches below her, and looking more like a little brother then a boyfriend.  
  
Harry quickly turned and walked to the Gryffindor table before Draco and Rebecca could see him. He was sure that Draco had told Rebecca the false story of why Harry was looking a bit beat up.  
  
There were few people at the Gryffindor table yet, for they were all probably taking twice as long to get past the fat lady portrait. Nick Chang, Cho's cousin, was there, though. Nick sat down beside Harry right away, ready to start a long and rather semi-interesting conversation, most likely about Cho.  
  
" Hey, Harry."  
  
" Oh, hi, Nick." Harry acted as if never in his whole life he'd expect to find himself talking to Nick. This made Nick happy.  
  
" You didn't think I'd be up so early, right?" Nick asked. " I mean, being first-year and all, you'd think I'd sleep like a log until Christmas Eve. Well, here I am!"  
  
" Yeah." Harry said, not really knowing what he was saying 'yeah' for, but it seemed an appropriate comment at the time.  
  
" Congratulations on being Gryffindor captain." Nick continued.  
  
" I might have to resign." Harry said, sadly.  
  
" Are you nuts? Why?" Nick seemed to lose half his respect for Harry all of a sudden.  
  
" Voldemort - I mean, You-Know-Who - is out still, you know. I shouldn't make myself too out-in-the-open." Harry explained.  
  
" It's not like you have a bull's eye painted on your back or something. It's only the greatest honor to be a captain of a Quidditch team!" Nick looked dreamy. " I'd love to be captain."  
  
" Maybe you can be one. Just work your way up from second year." Harry told him.  
  
" I can't."  
  
" Why?"  
  
" I'm one of those . . . butter-fingered kind of people. I can't catch a ball; it naturally just slips out of my hand. I'm surprised I can eat with a knife and fork, that's how clumsy I can be." Nick sighed. " I sure wish that it was possible, though."  
  
" Being captain is about as easy as swallowing fire. I mean, the whole team really would rely on me to bring them to a win. I have to draw out the game plans and stuff. And they're so complicated. I remember Oliver Wood - the last captain of Gryffindor. Instead of saying 'cross the field', he'd draw a million tiny X's and arrows and dots and circles, and he'd mumble about something endlessly. And that's just crossing the field!" Harry suddenly had discouraged himself even more from being captain, so he stopped.  
  
" Maybe Oliver had spasms in his arm or something. Couldn't draw a straight line so he took the long way." Nick laughed happily, being still at the age where things like potty-humor and stupid corny jokes were all the rage.  
  
" Yeah, okay." Harry smiled and then looked around the room. He had caught sight of Fred and George Weasley, their red hair and freckled cheeks standing out a mile in the room.  
  
One of the two twins sits down right by Harry, his eyes checking the room around him with a smile. " Say, Harry! What's new with you?"  
  
Then, the other twin sits down on Harry's other side, saying: "What's up with your glasses?"  
  
" I broke them. They fell down." Harry said, partially telling the truth. " And, there's nothing new with me."  
  
" Really? Are you just being modest? How's Hermione?" The twin on Harry's left says, his voice higher at mentioning the name of Harry's close friend.  
  
" She's fine, Fred." Harry replied, a bit stiffly.  
  
" I'm George. He's Fred." George said.  
  
" Sorry. She's fine, George." Harry repeats.  
  
" That's cool." George suddenly grins mischievously. "Say, Fred, did you happen to notice that little brat Malfoy today?"  
  
" Who can't?" Fred laughed. " He's walking around with that babe on his hand."  
  
" No, but not because of that. He's looking pretty beat up. And so is Harry. DO you see a connection?" George and Fred were talking right over Harry's head, as if Harry wasn't there.  
  
" You guys, there IS NO connection." Harry grumbled.  
  
" That's what they all say." Fred scratched the top of his lip, on which a small little mustache was growing, which Fred described as devilish, while George described it as 'stupid'.  
  
" Did you hear about the dance?" Fred asked George.  
  
" Sure I did." He replies.  
  
" Did you, Harry?" Fred looks at Harry, one eyebrow raised to suggest a little bit more meaning to the question then he intends to speak of.  
  
" Er. I didn't." Harry said.  
  
" I wonder who we'd all go with." George said, teasingly.  
  
" I don't know about you, but I'm definitely going with a babe this time. I'm not going to be like poor Eric Furbs last year, who'd turned a mop into a girl to pretend that he had a date, only to find his date turn into a mop again in the middle of the dance. Remember that?"  
  
" Of course! I thought I'd get a hernia laughing." George beamed.  
  
" I really just felt bad for him. That's all." Fred replied.  
  
" Sure you did." George and Fred then stood up, leaving Harry a bit bewildered and alone with Nick again. The room was now filling up, and yet no sign of Hermione.  
  
" There's a dance?" Harry asked Nick.  
  
" Yeah. They announced it at dinner yesterday. Didn't you listen up?" Nick asked.  
  
" I wasn't here." Harry told him.  
  
" Oh! Right! Hermione had been looking for you since dinner yesterday but she couldn't find you anywhere. She gave up after asking me, Neville, and a few others about a hundred times." Nick smiled. " Maybe she wanted to ask you."  
  
Harry felt his stomach churn. " Nah."  
  
" Why are you so sure?" Nick squinted his eyes.  
  
" I don't know. I just am."  
  
" Well, okay." Nick looked down on his breakfast plate, still bare of food. " Do you want to hear the details about the dance, anyway?"  
  
" Sure, what the heck." Harry said, actually dying to hear.  
  
" Good! I was dying to tell someone something juicy and new. In this school, pretty much everyone knows everything." Nick sat back, crossing his arms. " The dance will be the greatest thing ever! You see, Dumbledore said that this dance will be something special. This time, no 'going as friends'. He wants the boys to be chivilarous and kind."  
  
" I guess Malfoy can't go then." Harry smiled.  
  
Nick laughed. " I guess not. Well, moving on! The girls need to be dressed at their best. Roses and candy sort of affair. Also, he wants no skirmishes, no quarreling, no enemies."  
  
" No poison in Draco's cup, then?" Harry asked.  
  
" Harry!" Hermione scolded from behind him. Harry turned around, seeing Hermione standing right there.  
  
" So, how long have YOU been listening?" Harry's eyebrows raised just about a millimeter.  
  
" Not too long." She sat down. "Harry, where were you? I've been looking for you forever!"  
  
" I had a busy schedule."  
  
" Oh." Hermione smoothened her robes out, even though they were perfectly wrinkle-less. " So. . . you've heard about the dance? What do you think of it?"  
  
" It sounds fun." Harry suddenly fell silent for Professor McGonagall had stepped out to make an announcement. She said a spell to make her voice loud and easy to project over the room, then spoke:  
  
" Attention!"  
  
Hermione looked ready to say more to Harry, but she knew better then to talk during a speech by Professor McGonagall. So, naturally, Hermione grew silent as well.  
  
" Now, there's already a buzz about the dance, students. I want to give some last touch-up details, since I can already hear bits of conversation about it." Professor McGonagall began.  
  
Nick was unwrapping a chocolate frog underneath the table, and Harry gave him a light kick to shush him up, for Professor McGonagall was looking directly at them now.  
  
" The dance will be on Saturday, which is in two days. I want to make some rules: the girls must wear heels and a nice dress. Boys must wear some sort of suit or at least their Sunday-best clothing. Do we have an understanding so far?"  
  
The audience nodded, except for Malfoy's area of the Slytherin table, where a distinct "No" erupted.  
  
Professor McGonagall's face reddened as she continued: "There will be, most certainly, not a single fight, quarrel, or anything that might even qualify as any sort of violent act. No crude remarks from the gentlemen about how the ladies look."  
  
A few people looked at Draco knowingly.  
  
" No eating candy or gum or anything of that sort, it looks most certainly unprofessional. You are all handsome young gentlemen and lovely young ladies, so I insist you act properly, as well." Professor McGonagall glanced at Dumbledore. "Am I forgetting anything?"  
  
" Minerva, I'm afraid so." Dumbledore stood nearby her, so now his voice was also projected by the spell: " I will not tolerate anyone eating like a little piglet. There will be an appropriate amount of knives and forks and spoons provided for a comfortable meal. There should NOT be burping, sneezing without covering your mouth, or any other. . . bodily eruptions."  
  
Nick giggled loudly, and once again Harry realized how annoying first- years could be with their potty humor.  
  
" Alright, students, your meal will now be provided." Professor McGonagall told the students.  
  
The white plates in the dining hall swelled with food. Harry looked at the breakfast meal before him but his stomach was doing too many flip- flops to eat anything large. Hermione tugged on Harry's shoulder:  
  
" Harry! Dumbledore forgot to take off the spell! Listen to what they're saying!"  
  
Harry turned and listened as Dumbledore said to Professor McGonagall whom were both standing up by the area the spell was cast on: " Did you hear? The Weasleys are back from the visit to Charlie."  
  
" Already the twins caused trouble. Fred locked George in the Arithmacy classroom and Fred did a karate chop on the door to break out! Those boys are a menace." Professor McGonagall said, her voice low.  
  
Harry turned to see Fred and George's reaction. They obviously hadn't gotten the insult fully, for Fred was complaining: "What? It was a kung-fu chop!"  
  
Hermione's eyes followed Dumbledore as he walked out of the room, after telling Professor McGonagall that he had some papers to look through.  
  
The room stared at Professor McGonagall in an accusing way. She gasped. " Oh, dear, the spell!"  
  
Her hand brought up her wand and she swirled it through the air, making the spell go away. Then, she said, still loudly enough so Fred and George could hear even without the spell: " I'm sorry, boys. . . it just was a ridiculous thing to do!"  
  
The twins just shrugged, not caring.  
  
" Now, where do you suppose Ron is?" Hermione asked Harry. Harry suddenly felt guilty for he didn't even notice the absence of his own best friend. He immediately looked around the table to see if Ron by chance sat down farther away from them from lack of seating. But, to his surprise, there wasn't any Ron present at the table.  
  
" Should I go look for him?" Harry was ready to stand up and get away.  
  
" The food will be taken away soon." Hermione warned.  
  
" I need to find him!" Harry told her.  
  
" I suppose you would." She twirled her fork through the spaghetti she'd put on her plate. The thinned out red sauce flowed across her plate and she looked a bit disgusted. She looked up and saw Harry's face in profile. She gasped: " Your glasses!"  
  
" Now you notice? My whole face." Harry sat back down, knowing she'd want to know what happened.  
  
" What happened?" She asked.  
  
" It's a long story. I really should find Ron." Harry didn't want to tell Hermione, out of all people, about how Draco beat him up.  
  
" Ron's not going to die. He's probably still unpacking. You know how slow he is." Hermione didn't look ready to let Harry off the hook, so he began:  
  
" Draco got mad at me. Really mad. So finally he just caught up with me and beat the stuffing out of me. It was a long, bitter row and he won. And he messed my glasses up."  
  
" That's not a long story." She frowned. " You're embarrassed. Don't be." Hermione patted his hand. " It's not like it's something new, with enemies fighting each other."  
  
" I lost!" Harry sighed.  
  
" Here - let me fix your glasses up." She held her hand out and pulled his glasses off. Then, she took her wand out and said, under her breath, a quick little enchantment so that the glass that was missing was replaced with an equally good amount of glass.  
  
" Thanks." Harry took the glasses back. " Can I go look for Ron now? It's pretty important, you know!"  
  
" Alright. Go." She told him. Hermione then turned to her plate and took a big mouthful of the spaghetti.  
  
Harry went out of the room and then hurried up the stairs and into the common room. Ron wasn't anywhere inside. He asked, aloud: " Ron?"  
  
Nobody replied.  
  
Harry looked around again. Ron's bed was extremely lumpy. He pulled the covers back, and there was Ron, his pajama bottoms on, but his sweater on over a white shirt was also on. He had obviously been so sleepy he conked out in the middle of dressing.  
  
" Ron!" Harry shook the red-haired boy rather roughly.  
  
" Harry?" Ron's eyes opened and settled on Harry. Obviously, waking up with someone's face a few inches from yours is a bit unsettling, so Ron screamed.  
  
" Ron! Shut up! Get a hold of yourself!" Harry shook him again. Harry then let go of Ron just as the red-haired boy was coming to his senses after sleeping.  
  
" What time is it?" He asked.  
  
" Breakfast. Just the end of it." Harry told him.  
  
" Breakfast? Already? Why didn't you wake me!" Ron jumped from his bed, pointing his finger accusingly at Harry.  
  
" I did. You should drink ginseng tea, or something. Really." Harry leaned back on the wall. " You should hurry. Classes start in - oh, about. . ." Harry checked the clock on the wall. " Ten minutes."  
  
" Ten?" Ron's voice came out a frightened squeak. " Quick! Grab my bag! Pack my things!"  
  
Harry nodded and then ran to the corner of the room, unzipping Ron's little duffel carrying bag and then packing Ron's books into it, peeking at Ron's schedule. "Hey, Ron!"  
  
Ron was in the side room, changing, so he called out loudly: "What?"  
  
" We have similar classes. In fact, we share Potions together."  
  
" Yay! Potions." Ron said, sarcastically. " If that doesn't cheer me up, having Snape's mean face staring at me, then I don't know what. . ."  
  
" Snape's supposedly turned nice." Harry said. " He's just overjoyed with how he's the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, for at least until there's a replacement."  
  
" I don't believe it." Ron burst out of the bathroom, his hair a wild mess. " Can I borrow a comb? It's not like it helps you much anyway."  
  
" Sure." Harry pushed Ron's bag towards Ron and then handed his comb to the red-haired boy, as well.  
  
" So, you've heard about the dance, right?" Ron asked.  
  
" Yeah." Harry replied, as they walked out of the common room. " I don't think I'll ever work up the guts to ask Hermione if she wants to come with me."  
  
" It's just a question. Come right up to her and go: So, I hear there's a dance, and I was wondering if you wanna go with me. Make it smooth." Ron smiled and added: " Girls dig that garbage. Be as romantic as you can be."  
  
" Are you kidding me? I can't even talk to her as a friend without getting my stomach tied up in knots!" Harry began to jog down the hall. " Hurry it up. We gotta make it into Potions before Snape gets. . ."  
  
" Gets what, boys?" Snape was right before them all of a sudden.  
  
Harry looked up at the tall dark-haired man before him and gulped. " Gets angry." Harry finished.  
  
" You're right. Get going." Snape stepped aside, and Ron and Harry exchanged 'How-weird' glances as they continued to jog down the hall.  
  
Snape followed slowly behind them, for they were all heading for the same class, after all.  
  
Hermione and Harry sat down together in the back of the room and Ron sat down in the empty seat before Harry, turning back to watch Snape walk into the room. Snape stopped at Neville's desk and said: " Neville, why don't you be my assistant today?"  
  
" Me?" Neville's eyes widened.  
  
" Yes, you." Snape continued going to the front of the class. "Take your time, but do hurry up."  
  
Some people laughed, but everyone else was just a bit taken aback by Snape's light-hearted approach to Potions class. The class fell silent as Neville made his way up to the front of the room, his fingers crossed behind his back for good luck.  
  
" Now, Neville, I know you're not used to being the one doing the exemplary performance before the class, but I assure you, this potion is so easy it'll practically make itself for you. Just follow my instructions." Snape told Neville, then turned to the class. "Take out something to write with and paper, and pay attention to the ingredients. I want to get some sort of exam on this by the end of the month, just on the various potions."  
  
Hermione turned to Harry. " I forgot my quill. Do you have an extra one?"  
  
" No." Harry replied.  
  
" Ron!" Hermione whispered. " Do you have an extra quill?"  
  
" Nope." Ron said.  
  
" Oh, no!" Hermione turned red. " Snape will be really mad. He hates when students don't come prepared."  
  
" Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" Snape asked from the front of the room. A faint dislike to Hermione is still present in his voice, though he is still seems to be in a very good mood.  
  
" There is." Hermione said, after the brief silence in the room.  
  
" How so?" Snape moved towards Hermione.  
  
" I don't have a quill." She whispers, quietly. Her ears turn red and hot and Harry wishes that he did have a spare quill, for Hermione looked about as miserable now as Neville does when he makes a stupid blunder.  
  
" No?" Snape looks surprised. " You're the last student I'd expect, being unprepared. I'd say that's more of a Neville thing to do."  
  
A few eyes dart to Neville, who is desperately trying to clean off a thick black stain on his desk left behind from another class so that Snape doesn't think that Neville's spilling his ink again.  
  
" I'm sorry." Hermione spoke.  
  
A vein twitched in Snape's forehead twice, and he seemed to be growing angrier and angrier. His dislike to Hermione was now leaking out, practically bursting from him.  
  
" You know that a student MUST come to class prepared." Snape's slow, spooky voice rang articulately through the classroom.  
  
Hermione didn't reply.  
  
" Answer me!" Snape banged his hand down on her desk. "Miss Granger, you've always been a bit of an annoyance."  
  
Hermione's eyelids twitch, then she closes her eyes shut, hoping that her tears of fright don't squeeze out that way. Harry suddenly feels a need to help her.  
  
" Professor?" Harry pipes up.  
  
" What?" Snape turns to Harry, an even greater dislike dancing across the pale face, surrounded by a mass of greasy black hair.  
  
" Hermione doesn't have her quill because of me. Don't be angry with her." Harry surprises his own self with the words that leak from his mouth, fueled by his hopes that Hermione doesn't, herself, get in trouble.  
  
" How, precisely, would it be your fault, Mr. Potter?" Snape leans forward on the desk, his dark robes fluttering behind him. The hollow eyes belonging to the teacher trace angrily across the faces of the two students before him, then continues: " Why are you silent?"  
  
" Hermione borrowed me her quill this morning. I wanted to write a letter. Then I misplaced it, and she is still angry with me." Harry nudges Hermione under the table.  
  
Hermione's shock and confusion disappears as she catches on to what Harry's doing, and a little bit unwillingly, she said: "That's true. I'm at least surprised that Harry would admit to it."  
  
She turned her face away from Snape's, knowing that her true emotions were clear in her eyes.  
  
" Well, then, Mr. Potter, you'll be suspended from today's Quidditch match - Gryffindor versus Slytherin." Snape said, and Harry felt his heart stop momentarily.  
  
" But. . ." Harry breathed out.  
  
Snape just glared at Harry, one of those no-buts look.  
  
" Heh. Looks like you're left with your 'but' hanging out, Harry." Draco called out from across the classroom.  
  
Then, in the corner of the room, Goyle lets out a low laugh. Everyone else is pretty much too shocked to laugh.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
"Harry, the Quidditch game! Gryffindor will lose for sure without you - the Seeker AND captain." Ron shouts into Harry's ear above the raucous of Madame Hooch's class.  
  
She turned her eyes to the two boys and shouted: " Harry! Ron! Class has started. I'd appreciate if you'd keep quiet while I show Miss Granger how to appropriately fly her broom."  
  
The boys grew quiet and Harry was glad because he didn't want to hear about how stupid his action was. He just wanted to save Hermione from trouble, because she had a very nice reputation, being top student. Harry knew Snape was just mad and that the punishment was unfair, but once given, it had to be accepted.  
  
At least Malfoy isn't in this class, Harry thought, because then he'll laugh at me the whole time.  
  
Madame Hooch studies her students. Out of all the children, Harry Potter seemed the best player of Quidditch. So, after a moment of consideration, Madame Hooch called out: " Harry Potter, please come here and help Hermione."  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile as he walked over to Hermione's broom. She had a Nimbus 2000, which was still fairly new and very good. Hermione had bought the broom for herself for no apparent reason over the summer.  
  
" Class, listen to Harry's instructions." Madame Hooch suggests to her students, then a silence follows as Harry begins:  
  
" You see how Hermione is holding the broom on the top, her hands like that? That's wrong, her left hand should be right here. . ." Harry took her hand and then moved her left hand down a few inches. Her elbow was now bent in a ninety-degree angle and he explained how this position made Hermione able to control her broom the best.  
  
" Make a note of that in your heads, children. The control of the broom is more important then knowing how to simply fly it." Madame Hooch supports Harry's words.  
  
As Harry speaks, he hears Hermione's whisper in his ear: "Thank you - but you shouldn't have." He knew what she meant - the whole deal with Snape.  
  
" No, I think I should have." Harry replied, quietly.  
  
" What was that?" Madame Hooch questioned.  
  
" I said to her that. . . uh. . . she should have. As in, should have balanced her feet before trying to go up." Harry lied.  
  
" Wise advise again." Madame Hooch beamed as Harry flew through the steps of preparing oneself. Then, he stepped away from Hermione as she slowly rose up into the air.  
  
Hermione looked down and smiled happily. " I did it!"  
  
Once class was over, Madame Hooch stopped Harry before he went back into the school building.  
  
" Harry, I have a question for you."  
  
" What is it?" Harry stopped, leaning on his Firebolt like an over- sized cane.  
  
" Are you going to be here when Gryffindor plays Slytherin?" She looked serious.  
  
" No." Harry replied.  
  
" Why?" Madame Hooch's face darkened in disappointment.  
  
" I stood up for my friends and got in trouble for them." Harry spoke without any trace of shame now. " And I'm glad I did. It's worth more to me to protect my friends. . ." Harry stopped, knowing which friend he meant most, then continued: " . . . then to win some stupid Quidditch game. At least I'm satisfied knowing my friends aren't punished unjustly when I could have stopped it."  
  
" That's very beautiful, Harry, but you are Gryffindor's strongest player. There's no way that they can win with Slytherin now." Madame Hooch put her hand on his shoulder. " Don't you think you can work something out with your teachers?"  
  
" Snape's the one punishing me." Harry told Madame Hooch. She immediately knew that there was no point in reasoning with Professor Snape.  
  
" I hope your team's first game is a success, anyhow, Harry." Madame Hooch called after Harry. " Goodbye!"  
  
" Bye! Thank you for the nice wishes." Harry replied.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry's day had gone by rather quickly. Now it was dinnertime, and the Quidditch game was just an hour away. Harry's stomach grumbled with hunger, but he couldn't permit himself to go to eat, he was stuck staring out his window in the Gryffindor common room, his breath covering the mirror in thick white frosty clouds as he breathed angrily.  
  
His team - for he was captain - was preparing, and here he was stuck upstairs, not even allowed to reason with this teammates.  
  
" Stupid Snape." Harry whispered to the window. " Stupid, stupid, stupid."  
  
His breath left long trails of white steam across the window, and he leaned his head back to look at the pattern he'd made. If not for the mark his nose made in the middle of the white cloudy mass, it just might have resembled an Oldsmobile.  
  
" Are you still mad?" Neville asked timidly. He hadn't gone to dinner either, for he had developed the stomach flu from the Potion that Professor Snape made him concoct - it didn't quite come out right, after all.  
  
" Mad? Why would I be mad?" Harry asked, letting out another violent breath. The Oldsmobile morphed into more of a heart-shape.  
  
" I don't know. I'm asking you." Neville said.  
  
" Why should I be mad? Because of the fact that my first game as captain isn't even allowed for my enjoyment? Because after a summer of boredom I've been looking forward to Quidditch, only to have it canceled?" Harry questioned.  
  
" Are you mad, also, about Hermione?" Neville asked.  
  
" Hermione?" Harry turned his head ever so slightly, trying to look nonchalant, but his voice came out a nervous squeak anyway. "Why would I be mad because of her?"  
  
" She didn't ask you to the dance. It's coming up real soon." Neville reminded.  
  
" Why do you think I want her to ask me to the dance?" Harry leaned back on his chair, balancing on the back legs of it. Outside, the Slytherin team was emerging, their uniforms vivid against the green grass. Fred and George Weasley glanced up at the window Harry was sitting at from down below, and Fred whispered something to his twin.  
  
Then, the two waved to the window sympathetically.  
  
Harry waved back, then listened just as Neville finished explaining his reasoning about why Harry wanted Hermione to ask him to the dance: " . . . Besides, you're so shy that you'd probably prefer having the girl ask. Plus, the only girl you're really close friends with is Hermione. So why not?"  
  
" What if she says no? Not that I . . . want to ask her."  
  
" There's only one way to find out. If you hold it in any longer, then the day will come where you will regret not telling her." Neville said.  
  
" I guess." Harry's chair suddenly fell backward and he tumbled out head-over-toes and onto flat on his back in the middle of the room.  
  
Neville shot up to help him up, then said, encouragingly: "Hey, at least this doesn't happen to you everyday, like to me."  
  
" Thanks, Neville. I feel better." Harry told his friend. Neville nodded and then grasped his stomach.  
  
" Oh! Excuse me!" Neville ran from the room, one hand clamped over his mouth, the other at his stomach, ready to gag in the bathroom.  
  
Harry was left alone to his thoughts.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The game had actually been a success, to Harry's surprise. The Gryffindor team managed to find a replacement Seeker for the game, and the new Seeker was hit in the back of the head with the Snitch and it fell into his pocket. The judge's panel stumped over whether it was to be counted or not, then finally decided to just give the points to Gryffindor.  
  
Now Harry's feeling of disappointment and failure was receding now that the Gryffindor boys set up a little party in the common room. Fred and George had provided a cake, done in secret by Angelina, who was happy to provide the cake for the twins.  
  
Once everyone in the common room had a slice of cake, Fred climbed up onto a table, balancing on the corner of it, and then announced: " Even without a captain and professional Seeker, we managed to win against Slytherin. I suggest we be good sports and. . ." He stomped his foot down. " . . . Wipe the truth into Malfoy's face!"  
  
" Yeah!" George cheered his brother. Everyone else didn't seem to agree too well.  
  
" Wouldn't that be a bit mean?" Neville asked.  
  
" We don't want to stoop as low as Malfoy, rubbing vinegar into wounds and all." Harry spoke up.  
  
" Come on, Harry, you know you want to get back on Malfoy! Let's play one of our famous pranks on him!" George cheered.  
  
" No, I have a better idea. Let's publicly humiliate him at the dance." Fred told the now eager crowd of Gryffindor boys.  
  
" Isn't it just like one of you to plot something like this?" Hermione's voice sliced through the air like the dry crackle of a thunder bolt in the desert. She moved towards them, holding her hand out to Harry. In her hand was a quill. " I'm returning your quill, as promised."  
  
" What?" Harry squinted his eyes, not knowing what she meant.  
  
Hermione winked and then motioned with her eyes at the quill. Harry saw that a thin slip of paper, a note perhaps, was twined around it.  
  
" Oh! My quill." Harry smiled weakly. Was she going to ask him to the dance in the letter?  
  
" Is that all?" Fred crossed his arms.  
  
" Yes. Sorry to interrupt." Hermione sauntered out of the room of boys and then glanced sideways at Harry to see if they had an understanding - the note was obviously top-secret. Harry's stomach twisted with suspense as he sat through the rest of the party, his fingers fumbling around the quill, trying to get the note off.  
  
Once the boys dispersed to go to sleep, Harry sat down by the window's bleak lighting and opened the note with trembling fingers. His hands smoothened it out and then he concentrated on her words:  
  
Harry!  
  
This is important so  
  
pay attention. I got a letter,  
  
a very mysterious one, by  
  
owl today. I don't know who  
  
sent it. Here's how it goes:  
  
'Stay away from Potter unless  
  
you want him to get hurt, too'. I  
  
think that someone's gonna try  
  
to hurt me and they want you  
  
to keep away so that you don't get  
  
hurt. Oh, please, promise me  
  
you'll watch out.  
  
Hermione  
  
Harry stared at the note for a long time, bewildered. Why would anyone want to hurt Hermione? Unless, of course, Malfoy felt like it was the due time to give Harry another beating-up. Draco wouldn't have bothered to care about Hermione, though! This puzzled him most of all.  
  
His hands trembled. How could he stay away from Hermione? It would be near impossible for him. Hermione didn't have a lot of female friends, and Harry did know that a lot of the girls were jelous of her because of how she got to spend so much time with Harry.  
  
Harry never took those girls seriously. He preferred Hermione, with her wise words and her bookworm attitude then the flashy girls with makeup and boys on their minds.  
  
His hands rolled the note up into a scroll-form again and he stuck it into his pocket. A sudden feeling brought a new fact to attention: he should go see Hermione, in case they might need to discuss some other things. After all, getting a note like that by owl wasn't exactly everyday happenings.  
  
He looked around to see if anyone else was awake. Hearing the tossing and turning of Neville, Harry suspected that Neville was having another nightmare. Neville would fall asleep quick as lightning but then dream restlessly, and then wake up as if he never slept at all.  
  
Fred was murmuring in his sleep: " You smelled my ravioli!" Of course, that was probably not what he said, but people who mumble through their sleep usually aren't understood quite well.  
  
Harry dressed quickly in the darkest corner of the room, so that he would at least not be in his pajamas if anyone caught him in the hallway. The frosty night air nipped at his ears as he sneaked by the portrait of the fat lady. She grumbled about how it was completely inelegant to creep around in the night.  
  
Harry then stopped. What if Hermione had gone to sleep as well? But Harry knew Hermione. If she was anywhere near her old self, she'd be in the library, studying in the dark about what the mysterious letter might have meant and researching codes to see if she could break the words into a new meaning.  
  
Dark shadows loomed across the floor and the bleak light of the moon barely made any patches of light. Harry suddenly wished he'd taken the invisibility cloak, but it was under his bed and removing it would cause too much of a stir.  
  
His eyes stopped at an open classroom door, and his curiosity took the best of him. He peeked inside but nobody was there, not a single soul.  
  
With a shrug, Harry continued down the hallway. The stairs were now the next obstacle to tackle. He hoped that nobody would hear him as he slowly made his way down the winding staircase. Just as he was about to enter the library, the staircases changed behind him. How would he get back?  
  
Harry didn't really care now. He had Hermione to see. His hand stretched out to open the library door. The cold hard wood chilled his fingertips and he drew his hand back. What if Hermione wasn't in the library? What if he stumbled upon the groundskeeper?  
  
Too late to worry now, Harry assured himself in his thoughts. Then, he took a decisive step forwards and pushed the door open. The dim library astounded him with its roomy yet spooky interior. He'd been here before in the dark, and each time was like reliving the experience over again.  
  
Harry's eyes scanned the tables for Hermione. Sure as anything, there she was, her hair illuminated in the moonlight. Harry crept closer, then whispered: "Herm?"  
  
Her head jerked up. She had fallen asleep on the book she was reading. Her body spun around, her mouth open to scream. Harry remembered to whip his wand just in time and put a silencing spell on her.  
  
Hermione stared at him, her mouth open in a silent shout, then she calmed down seeing that it wasn't anyone of the school authority, just Harry.  
  
Harry took the silencing spell off and Hermione whispered: "How'd you know where to find me?"  
  
" I'd known you long enough to complete your sentences. I can by know predict where you'll go next, too." Harry replied.  
  
" So, what do you make of the letter?" She asked him.  
  
" I don't know. I came here to see if you've figured any clues out. I was expecting to hear a round of suspects by know. Tsk, tsk, tsk. . ." He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth in a playful sign of scolding.  
  
" I fell asleep." She justified herself.  
  
" It would have been more safe to sleep in your bed, don't you think?" Harry smiled. " Or, did you all of a sudden find that books make the best pillows?"  
  
" Seriously! I believe that a girl had to write this, because the handwriting's so neat." Hermione said. " Do you want to see the original?"  
  
" Sure." Harry sat down beside her.  
  
" Look." She placed the letter before her and then allowed Harry to examine the writing. It was indeed written in a bubbly, cheerful handwriting.  
  
" Then again, it could have been forged for a girl's handwriting to throw us off. Either way, we have two threads already." She poked at the letter with her nail.  
  
" Did you get in a fight with anyone lately, to have them write something like this to you?" Harry asked.  
  
" Of course not! I have better things to do." She replied.  
  
" Just asking." Harry looked down at the letter again. "What if its just a joke or prank? People do stupid things like this all the time, and they get a good few yaks from it. I wouldn't take it too seriously."  
  
" In these days, everything should be taken seriously." She said.  
  
" In my opinion, it's not a good time right now to work up little tales about a single note. I swear, I bet by now you must have at least made up a good few stories." Harry yawned and then stood up again. " I think you need a good rest. Tomorrow's a long day, you know."  
  
" And Saturday I can relax." She told him.  
  
" It's the ball on Saturday." Harry suddenly grew timid and he was glad it was dark for his face would be a luminous, glowing red by now.  
  
" I know." She replied, a bit sadly. " I suppose I can go alone."  
  
" Alone?" Harry bit his tongue. " Why don't you want to go with someone?"  
  
" The question is, who'd want to go with me?" She replied, then suddenly shot up to her feet. " That's enough about that. You're right, time to go to sleep."  
  
With that, Hermione walked away quickly. Harry followed her, trying to keep up. Finally, he fell behind and just took a random staircase, finding his way into his common room in the dark. Once in the appropriate surroundings, Harry dived onto his bed and squeezed his eyes shut to keep his mind from flooding with thoughts.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The next morning, Harry awoke to find the common room nearly empty. Ron was even gone. He had either overslept or everyone else was extremely early.  
  
Harry jumped up from his bed and then realized he was still wearing his clothes from when he went to the library in the night. He decided that they weren't too wrinkly, so as not to waste time, and then ran from the room.  
  
He managed to find a seat at the end of the Gryffindor table among a group of jittery first-years just as the breakfast appeared on the table.  
  
After eating a quick but nourishing meal, Harry gathered up his books to rush to Potions. His heart sank, realizing that he hadn't completed his homework.  
  
Just as Harry walked through the hallways to find Potions, he stopped at a corner. Just around the corner he could hear Lavender's voice:  
  
" Hermione, are you going to the dance with anyone?"  
  
Harry's heart froze, hoping Hermione replied 'no.'  
  
" No."  
  
The reply came from Hermione and Harry was immediately relieved.  
  
" I thought you'd go with Harry." Lavender said, her voice in a tone of question.  
  
" Well, I'm not." Hermione replied.  
  
Harry moved a bit farther away from the corner, not knowing if he should intrude on the conversation or if he should walk by and catch the last bits of it, or if he should go the other way and ignore it all together.  
  
Being a boy of very curious mind, Harry remained frozen in place, listening intently:  
  
" You know, you're right. I bet Harry wouldn't even want to go with you." Lavender sneered.  
  
Hermione sounded close to tears as she replied: "Maybe he would."  
  
" You'd like that, wouldn't you? Well, I'm certain he'll ask me, or Parvati, or Cho. He has so many better choices. I pity you." Lavender wasn't being very nice at all.  
  
Harry wondered if jealous girls were always like that. He listened as Hermione replied:  
  
" Maybe he will ask me."  
  
Lavender replied:  
  
" He wouldn't!"  
  
Harry suddenly realized that this was a cue, a perfect line to walk in and announce something. So, working up all the courage he had left inside of him, he stepped out in front of Lavender and Hermione and said, clearly:  
  
" Oh yeah? Wanna bet?"  
  
Author's Note: Ooh Cliffhanger! =O)  
  
This chapter took me a good two days to write, sorry if I kept anyone in anticipation. I hope you like it so far. I'm sorry for the mistakes. 


	4. Dancing in the Rain

Author's Note: Before you read this I wanted to say I tried to make an illustration and if it goes well it will show up online. If not, that's alright.  
  
  
  
1 Chapter 4  
  
Dancing in the Rain  
  
  
  
Hermione had never looked that shocked. Her face seemed to turn a ghastly pale, then she uttered out a single word: "Really?"  
  
" Yes. Hermione, will you go to the dance with me?" Harry spoke in a rush, his eyes darting across the surprised face of Lavender and then back to Hermione.  
  
" Of course!" Her eyes filled with what seemed tears. "I'd been waiting for you to ask me. For anyone to ask me." She added the last sentence quickly.  
  
" Good." Harry smiled. " Then . . . I guess that's settled."  
  
Lavender was fuming angry. "Ooh!" She hissed, and then ran from them, clutching her Potions book under one arm while balancing a bag of books in the other.  
  
" Harry?" Hermione asked.  
  
" What is it?" Harry turned to her.  
  
" Why did you ask me? Was it to make Lavender mad?" She looked doubtful.  
  
" No!" Harry smiled. " Believe me, I'm not that shallow. I want to go to the dance with you."  
  
She seemed satisfied with the answer, and Harry walked her to Potions in silence, not knowing what to say. Just before they entered the room, she said to him: " Thank you, then."  
  
" You're welcome." He replied. " Thanks for saying that you will go with me. I thought you'd say. . ."  
  
" Harry!" Ron called out from behind them before Harry could finish.  
  
" What is it?" Harry asked his red-haired friend, who's eyes were sparkling with a sudden delight.  
  
" Did you find a date for the dance yet? Because Cho just told me that she'd go with you, if you'd like, and I thought, 'Oh, man, I gotta go tell Harry before he does anything stupid'." Ron panted out.  
  
Hermione's face changed abruptly.  
  
" Stupid as in asking me as a last-chance desperation plea?" Hermione asked.  
  
" No! I wanted to go with you, not Cho." Harry explained. "Ron, somehow break to Cho that I'm going with someone else."  
  
Ron looked at Harry, then Hermione. "Well, you finally told her, eh?"  
  
" Told me what?" She frowned. " Harry just asked me if I wanted to go with him. He didn't tell me anything." Hermione crossed her arms. "What is going on, exactly, that I don't know about?"  
  
" Nothing!" Harry quickly said, stepping firmly on Ron's foot.  
  
" Ow!" Ron gasped.  
  
" Oh! Terribly sorry, Ron. I'm feeling clumsy today." Harry quickly stepped inside Professor Snape's class, his eyes adjusting slowly to the low lighting. He wanted to have no more conversation with Ron on the subject of the dance. Until the actual dance, anyway.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The dance came unexpectedly fast for Harry Potter. He had been immerged in his studies and in balancing his classes so that he'd manage with the homework and all. That evening before the dance, Ron was panicking with loss of a date.  
  
Harry put on a nice suit that he had Hagrid buy him in Hogsmeade (Hagrid had been away from Hogwarts a lot this week to find more wood with which to carve his creations). The suit was amazingly suited to him, for it was made by magic. Once it was put on, it would immediately take shape to compliment the body of the wearer.  
  
Harry smiled at himself in the mirror. The mirror replied at his gleeful face: " Hot date tonight?"  
  
Harry shrugged. " If it counts as it, then yes."  
  
" You look snazzy." The mirror seemed to think a while, then continued: " That shirt you have on - it's a bit too gray to match the suit. Maybe you can find another one?"  
  
" Thanks. I'll look." Harry glanced through the small bag of his belongings nearby and found a crisp white shirt that the Dursleys had bought for him when they'd have guests over, so that he'd look 'presentable'.  
  
" There's a nice one." The mirror sounded delighted. " It matches your suit splendidly."  
  
" Thanks." Harry had never really tried asking a mirror for fashion advice, but he knew that if there was one person or thing that would know a bad suit when it sees one, it would be a mirror. The poor things had seen everything. The mirror had complained to him once about a bald forty-year- old man that would look into her cousin every day and smile. Then, one day, the man had said: "Man, do I look good! Forty and not one gray hair!". It had been a great joke among the mirror and the Gryffindor boys, though a lot of the boys never quite got the joke.  
  
Harry tugged his tie into place, then realized he should get something for Hermione. 'Girls love flowers and cards and stuff', someone had once told him, probably one of the Weasley boys, though Harry hadn't taken the time to remember who said it.  
  
" Mirror?"  
  
" What is it?" The mirror asked.  
  
" Do you think I should get something for the girl I'm going with?" Harry's examined his reflection in the mirror, trying to fix up his crooked tie at the same time.  
  
" Flowers work. A single red rose, in fact, would be romantic." The mirror sighed dreamily. " Now, off you go. The dance begins in half an hour, you know."  
  
" I know." Harry smiled at the mirror and then walked out of the common room, the fat lady's portrait swinging shut behind him. Out in the hallway, he caught Ron asking Lavender to the dance. Lavender looked up at Harry spitefully and then projected her voice loudly:  
  
" Yes, Ron, I will go to the dance with you."  
  
Harry felt not a single twinge of jealousy, despite Lavender's intentions. He walked casually through the hallways, down a few staircases, and then found himself outside. Rose bushes lined the wall around the entire area, and he carefully plucked a long stemmed one.  
  
Then, running his fingers across its soft leaves, Harry returned inside the castle and then went inside to find his way to the dining hall, the area the dance was going to take place. As he stepped inside the room, his breath was taken away for the whole entire room was changed into a glorious dance floor. Dumbledore had been casting spell after spell, adorning the room with cascading purple curtains, flower chains all around the windows, and small round tables rounding the dance floor. A clear night sky was shown in an image on the ceiling, with hundreds of stars dancing and shining happily.  
  
Harry sat down at the nearest table and waited for everyone else to come. Neville was still sick, and in fact much worse, and he wouldn't be attending. Malfoy had joked about how Neville would be having a private date with Madame Pomfrey in the hospital wing, which aroused barely a few chuckles in Professor Trelawney's class.  
  
Professor Trelawney had made a few predictions about Harry already, from his palm. She envisioned bad luck coming closer, and she warned him to stay in the shadows. Then, she added that his love life was blossoming magnificently and that he was truly maturing into a nice young man.  
  
If Draco hadn't cracked up at that point, Harry would have felt proud. Now, Harry's ears burned at the memory of Draco's cold, heartless laughter instead of smiling with the knowledge of the improvements in his love life.  
  
The room was now buzzing in excitement. An arrangement of flowers appeared on each table along with a complicated amount of table settings. Harry had never used so many pieces of silverware in his life.  
  
The room was aglow with candles, and the usual chairs in the dining hall were now magically enhanced to being gilded thrones, with sapphires and rubies sparkling in intricate swirls and designs across the arms and legs of the chairs.  
  
Harry couldn't marvel enough at how his school had morphed from ordinary to a romance-factor dance floor. Harry's eyes stopped dead on someone moving towards him. He'd waited for a moment like this, but now it looked impossibly glamorous: Hermione had come.  
  
She had on a simple red dress, her hair tied back and then cascading down over her shoulders in light curls. She had touched up her highlights a bit, making her hair glow wonderfully. The dress she had on might have been simple, but it complemented her well. Though Hermione wasn't exactly thin, Harry felt it was a lot better that she had more to herself then some of the girls, which would skip lunch or breakfast to stay at a desired weight. The dress was strapless if you considered the fact it wasn't held up by anything on the shoulders. Instead, a thin and filmy red gauze-like fabric stretched across and around her arms about an inch below the shoulder, then it was tied with a red ribbon in back and cascaded down in a filmy wave to her lower back. Her shoes were high heels, and Harry had never seen ones like it. They had little sequined hearts near the tip and the rest of it was somewhat a glossy red material that was elevated upwards by half an inch tall heels. Then, moving upwards, the bodice of her dress was done in small little red flowers that were pinned on by heart-shaped sequins. Then, her lips were painted a nice pink-red that set off the color of her dress and hair. Her eye shadow was more simple, just a shimmering gloss.  
  
" Harry?" She asked, for Harry was just about turned to a stone statue, sitting there, gawking.  
  
" You look great!" Harry said. He had just remembered the rose in his hand by an unfortunate prickle to his index finger. With a haste, he held the flower up and then said: " I. . . I got this for you. I thought you might like this."  
  
" Oh, thank you. It'll match my dress." She took the rose and then gently held it up to her face. " Do you think we could dance like they do in the movies, with a rose held between the teeth of the girl? Or is that the guy?"  
  
" A rose between your teeth. Ingenious." Malfoy was standing beside them all of a sudden, spoiling the moment. Malfoy's eyebrows arched upwards, and a single white strand of hair fell forwards on his forehead, his eyes studying Hermione. " Well, I'll be."  
  
" Do I really look that nice?" Hermione seemed amused. " I had to ask around for advice from the other girls."  
  
Malfoy didn't reply, not wanting to say something that might be considered an insult, and yet trying to look uninterested so his date, Rebecca Crick, wasn't upset.  
  
" You look so nice that you make all the other girls invisible, Herm." Harry told her.  
  
" Of course you'd say that." She teased.  
  
" I mean it." He said, softly.  
  
Hermione was about to say something, her eyes filling with a sudden thankfulness, when a soft melody drifted through the room. Slow classical music was the easiest to dance to for Harry, who had practiced dance steps in front of his mirror already.  
  
The tables were suddenly blossoming with food. Malfoy didn't wait around much and returned to his seat, though he still seemed impressed with Hermione.  
  
" I'd say having him look at me that way is equally annoying as when he called me Mudblood." Hermione confessed to Harry, as they sat down at the table to begin the meal.  
  
Harry stared at the series of forks. " Now, what exactly am I to do with these? This one here looks like a back-scratcher, and that there could easily pitch hay."  
  
She laughed. " Just work from the inside out, that's what my mother always tells me."  
  
" Sounds about right." Harry began on the tiny plate of salad before him, which had about more on it then a leaf of lettuce, a slice of tomato, and a few peas. A thin sliver of dressing was splashed along the side of the plate, looking more like decoration then anything.  
  
Hermione ate slowly and elegantly, so Harry decided to imitate her. He held the small fork daintily in his hand, then observed how Hermione treated it as if it were glass, gently poking it into the peas and then spearing the tomato slice.  
  
Harry looked sideways at Crabbe, who had gone to the dance with a fourth-year girl that had thick horn-rimmed glasses and a boatload of freckles dotting her face. She was rather cute in a way, but the way she ate together with Crabbe would have been rated 'R' if someone were to watch - for violence. Even the simple salad left a terrifying mess on their table.  
  
Harry then glanced at Hermione, and they both exchanged smiles, knowing just what they were looking at.  
  
The music then changed to a slightly different beat, a bit livelier and yet smoother then the other one, which had very low notes then would jump to high ones abruptly.  
  
Once the salads were eaten, then next meal appeared on the table and Harry moved on to the next set of silverware. These consisted of a slightly larger fork and a very sharp-looking knife, and the meal was shell macaroni with a light, meaty sauce over it. This was also served in a smaller portion, for Harry knew that there would be at least six or seven parts to the meal and it would spoil everyone's appetite if the appetizers were in heaping proportions.  
  
From the center of the tables, next to the flower arrangement, a plate of hor de' vours sprouted, which were simply small bite-sized delicacies.  
  
Hermione shifted her leg and it brushed Harry's, which made him sit up straighter in surprise. Hermione also turned red and then moved her knee away immediately.  
  
Harry realized he should make some conversation, and he searched his mind for topics. Finally, he decided on a sure-fire topic that never failed: " So . . . how about the weather?"  
  
" The weather's . . ." Hermione had said at precisely the same time.  
  
Harry laughed. " I guess we're both trying to think of something to say."  
  
" Yet there's little to say." She replied, looking down at her plate, which had now disappeared and been replaced with barley soup. " And so much, at the same time."  
  
Harry didn't know what she meant exactly but nodded anyway. Draco Malfoy's laughter rang through the room just then. It seems that Crabbe had tried to drink his soup from the bowl instead of using a spoon and ended up pouring the hot liquid down his shirt.  
  
Professor McGonagall, one of the chaperones, nearly died trying not to laugh as she escorted Crabbe from the room to get him cleaned up.  
  
" How embarrassing." Hermione said, softly.  
  
" I know." Harry smiled suddenly. " Did I ever tell you about this guy that Fred and George knew, who'd enchanted his mop to act as a girl?"  
  
" No." Hermione replied. " Tell me!"  
  
" Well, he put a spell on his broom and. . ." Harry proceeded telling the story in detail until he got to the part where the mop suddenly became itself again right in the middle of the dance, then stopped to let Hermione finish laughing.  
  
" Goodness! If I were there, I'd have burst laughing." She finally choked out.  
  
Harry was satisfied, knowing that he had managed to entertain Hermione somewhat. Now his mind searched for the next thing to say.  
  
Just then, Fred and George excused themselves simultaneously from their dates and then approached Draco Malfoy's table. "Say, Malfoy." Fred began.  
  
Malfoy looked up. "What?"  
  
Harry turned around to see better what was going on. He hoped that the twins weren't serious in embarrassing Draco Malfoy in front of his peers - it would have been a sure row of three weeks worth of detention. The twins had enough already from previous years to keep serving detention even when they graduate.  
  
" It seems Slytherin lost to Gryffindor, even without Gryffindor's good-luck charm." George began, obviously referring to Harry.  
  
" Really? Good-luck charm? I'd say he was the one that messed things up." Malfoy retorted.  
  
" You're missing the point. Slytherin lost." Fred spoke slowly, making every word sting before he finished.  
  
" So? We're still better. You got lucky." Malfoy replied, still unbending to facing the truth.  
  
" Yeah, that's what you'd like to think, wouldn't you?" George asked.  
  
" Leave him alone. Ve just vant to have dinner in peace. Settle this later." Rebecca Crick ordered the twins, her eyes angry.  
  
" Hmm. I see you've gotten right to picking up the first girl that would want you, Malfoy. I'd say she's pretty desperate." Fred smiled mischievously.  
  
" I think you're jealous." Malfoy hissed.  
  
" Jealous?" George said, in a fake voice. " Why, by Jove, he's got it. Fred and I are simply dying to be you. To be on the bad side of Harry, who's going to be about as big as Dumbledore some day; to have our team be a bunch of losers. Yes, sir, that's every man's dream."  
  
" Shut up." Malfoy grumbled. " Why don't you go sit down and gloat about how great you are to someone else, since I don't care?"  
  
" Someone's a bit cold today." Fred laughed.  
  
" Yeah, just freezing." George suddenly winks at Harry and lifts a glass filled with water and ice, ready to land on Draco's well combed hair.  
  
" Stop." Harry said.  
  
" What?" The twins both wheeled around to face Harry, their ruddy faces filled with surprise.  
  
" I said, stop. Just because he. . . and I . . . had a fight, doesn't mean that you guys have to get back on him for me." Harry realized that everyone was staring at him in surprise, including Draco. " So if you want to beat Draco up, or do something nasty to him, then do it on your own expense, not as revenge for me or for spite and gloating."  
  
" Harry, are you nuts? Don't you WANT to get back at him?" Fred motioned at Draco.  
  
" Sure." Harry replied. " But I'll handle it myself."  
  
The twins exchanged glances, then the glass of ice water returned to the table, and they turned to return to their seats, a near-collision avoided.  
  
" That was really brave!" Hermione said to Harry, once he sat back down.  
  
" No, it was stupid. Now the twins will think I'm some sort of sissy." Harry stirred his barley soup with his spoon, a thin glaze setting over it, for the soup had thickened on the top.  
  
" Harry." Hermione was ready to tell him something important. " Listen. It is any man's job to stand up to his enemy in order to help his friends, but it is a true man that stands up to his friends to help his enemy."  
  
" Maybe." Harry didn't seem convinced.  
  
" Besides, the Weasley twins would never, ever think you're a sissy. They'd assume it was for the best, since they know you'd make a better decision then they would."  
  
" You're right. There's no point in moping now." Harry smiled and then quickly pulled his spoon from the barley soup as the plate transformed into a white, round little bowl that wasn't very deep. It was filled generously with a slice of garlic bread, a well-done steak, and a scoop of mashed potatoes, the gravy placed a bit off side so that the steak was completely saturated.  
  
" They sure change the meals fast. I didn't get to finish my soup." Hermione complained.  
  
" I didn't even start my soup." Harry replied.  
  
They ate a bit faster, at the same time trying not to be appearing as messy slobs. The meal was done at that point and Professor McGonagall announced that it would be the dancing time now as she prepared the dessert spell.  
  
" Care to dance?" Harry asked Hermione, holding his hand out.  
  
" I can't dance!" She replied, a bit shyly.  
  
" Neither can I." Harry pulled her to her feet, her heels sliding a bit on the sheen floor, her eyes wide with surprise. "Well, come on! You're the best looking girl in the room. You shouldn't be sitting the dancing out."  
  
Harry bumped into people as he walked backwards to the edge of the dance parquet, still pulling Hermione along. The bracelet on her wrist jangled, and her hands were still twined around the rose.  
  
Just then, someone tapped Harry's shoulder. He turned, and saw it was Draco. He had his hands in his pockets and was trying to look as if he was just incidentally standing there, not purposely to speak with Harry.  
  
" What is it?" Harry asked. " Are you mad that I didn't let you handle the twins alone?"  
  
" Kind of." Draco admitted, his icy blue eyes settling on his shoes. " More of it, though, is that I wanted to say thanks."  
  
" You're kidding!" Harry had by now begun to dance, leading Hermione around in circles, just as the other couples were dancing. Malfoy had to raise his voice as Harry moved farther away:  
  
" How about we call that fight a truce? I won't make it look like your fault, and you won't tell on me. Deal?"  
  
Even though Malfoy didn't sacrifice much in the deal, Harry realized it had taken someone like him a lot of hard will and courage to speak up.  
  
Harry nodded in agreement, then turned to Hermione, her gauzy red arm straps tickling his own hands as he rested a hand on her shoulder, the other at her side, trying to imitate the other couples.  
  
Just then, Goyle stumbled backwards into Harry, and Harry nearly fell over. The two boys looked at each other and mumbled an apology. Then, Harry tried to swallow his embarrassment and continued to dance.  
  
If someone had asked Harry what he thought about, finally getting to dance with Hermione, having his hands at her shoulder and side, their eyes locked in a meaningful glance, then Harry would say he had no idea at all. His mind was fairly blank of anything dealing with the reality of it. Instead, he thought hard about what his feet were doing, which was a far cry according to him from dancing. Hermione seemed pleased, though.  
  
The music was slowing down with every note, and then the piece ended. Harry began to walk off the dance floor, losing the last of his bravery, when a warm hand caught his cold one. He smiled at Hermione and her hand guided him back onto the dance parquet for another round of dancing.  
  
" You're a good dancer." She whispered in his ear as a lively piece began. Harry glanced at the way Ron and Lavender were dancing, with Lavender spinning wildly and Ron holding his hand up to spin her, then making round circle maneuvers across the dance floor. Then, Hermione and Harry assumed the new dance form like molten plastic would assume a mold set out for it.  
  
" I've never danced, really, like this." Harry replied, as he lifted his hand so Hermione could spin. She did, and then they began the circle movement.  
  
" It seems Draco had." Hermione noted.  
  
Draco was dancing about as elegantly as a professional would, and Rebecca was more then impressed. Draco was light on his feet and strong, capable of any move by guidance of his dance partner, not really relying on her skill; for a dance pair with one good leader was as good as two.  
  
" His father probably sent him for lessons." Harry then looked out the large window. " It's raining."  
  
" Again?" Hermione seemed disappointed. " I hope the fields won't be muddy for Madame Hooch's private Quidditch lesson on Monday."  
  
" Hermione - why do you want to know how to play Quidditch so much? It seems to me that you've never been that interested in the game, though I might be wrong." Harry asked.  
  
" I don't know. I just saw how much you liked it and I thought that if I played Quidditch. . ." She stopped, and she changed the subject abruptly, her ears burning red: " Say, look at that. Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore are dancing together."  
  
Indeed, the two older adults were dancing harmoniously together, with Dumbledore's tall figure and vibrant robes clashing to Professor McGonagall's stature.  
  
Just then, a huge flash of lightning turned the dark velvety sky to a dazzling white, then the low frightening growl of thunder erupted. It had hit something desperately close, Harry could tell. His mind wondered what it had hit, but then Hermione took his mind off the thunder with another question:  
  
" Where's Neville?"  
  
" Out with the flu. Poor guy, he's so sick that he's spending the dance with Madame Pomfrey." Harry told her.  
  
" That's too bad. I'm sure I could have found someone for him to go with. There's so many girls in this school, after all." She smiled at Harry.  
  
Harry smiled back uncertainly.  
  
" Have you done any new research on that letter you got?" Harry asked her.  
  
" As a matter of fact, I have." She suddenly dropped her hand from Harry's shoulder, a small droplet of blood seeping from her finger, the thorny rose in her hand the cause of the injury, though slight. " Ouch!"  
  
" Here, let me take care of your rose." Harry took it from her hands and then slowly peeled the thorns off the side and then broke the head of the rose off, along with about two inches of stem, and tucked it behind Hermione's ear. " There."  
  
" Thanks." Hermione replied.  
  
" All my pleasure." Harry realized that this was the sappiest moment of his life, but he didn't even mind. If he was to see this happen in a book or on Muggle Television, he'd have felt queasy with how corny and sappy it was. Now, though, nothing mattered but the warm hand on his shoulder and his side, and the girl in front of him.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
A million drops of rain were clattering to the roof of Hogwarts by the time dessert was announced. Harry's feet hurt and Hermione had probably been even worse off in her nifty high heels, though she didn't show it.  
  
The dessert sprang up just as magically from the table, three vanilla scoops of ice cream sundae in a crystal bowl with fudge poured over it and finely chopped nuts. So finely chopped they looked like dust. In fact, it could've just as well been dust and nobody would have noticed.  
  
Harry moved his spoon down onto the fudge and then looked up at Hermione, who was raising her wand and tapping at the edge of the ice cream bowl. The ice cream immediately turned into chocolate with marshmallow swirls.  
  
" That's cool. How'd you sneak your wand in?" harry asked her.  
  
" Easy. Minimus!" She said the word and her wand shrunk to a tiny little thing and she tucked it into the ribbon around her waist. From far away the small chapstick-sized wand didn't seem visible at all.  
  
" I wish I thought of that. I'd rather have some strawberry ice cream." Harry stared down at his ice cream again and then ate a spoonful. It was very good and he ate more.  
  
" Harry, do you think that the letter I got might have been from Lavender?" Hermione suddenly asked.  
  
Harry shrugged. " Why would she bother?"  
  
" She doesn't seem to like me much." Hermione replied.  
  
" Not everyone likes me, but I don't get letters like that." Harry countered.  
  
" I suppose." Hermione looked out the large windows at the rain. " You know what? I'd always wanted to walk through the rain like that - it's warm enough outside and the rain isn't that cold, I'm sure."  
  
" Do you want to?" Harry asked her.  
  
" You mean it?" She asked, her eyes dancing with excitement. " My dress. . . I might ruin it."  
  
" And my glasses might break, and I can trip and die, Volde - - uh, You-Know-Who might pop out from behind the bushes and zap me into another dimension or something. So many 'maybes' and 'mights', but that doesn't stop ME." Harry's words were very convincing. Hermione struggled to keep her word, then finally broke into a smile and said:  
  
" You're right. I'll never know if I don't try."  
  
Once the ice cream had been taken away - or perhaps zapped away by magic - Harry and Hermione stood to leave.  
  
" Harry! Where you going? The dancing is just beginning!" Ron asked, as Harry walked by Ron's table to go outside.  
  
" I'm going to take Hermione outside." Harry replied.  
  
" What? In that pouring rain?" Ron frowned. " It's like the remake of Noah's Arc out there!"  
  
" Then we'll go take a swim." Harry smiled and then pushed the doors open to go outside. The rain immediately enveloped him and he turned to face Hermione. Her sequined shoes shimmered in the dark of the night.  
  
" Let's walk around." Harry finally said.  
  
" Alright." She laughed and then walked around. They weren't really walking in the rain for Hogwarts had a little sill on the second floor from the all the windows that pretty much covered the walkway like a canopy.  
  
" It's so romantic." Hermione whispered. " I'd always wanted to just be outside, listening to the rain. How about you?"  
  
" I guess." Harry had never thought about things like that.  
  
" I'd also wanted to ride a horse in the rain. I suppose I'm a sucker for anything that has to do with mysterious yet inspirational behavior." Hermione's eyes looked up towards the heavily raining sky and then added: " I miss my parents, sometimes, they'd always read me stories about princesses that did these sorts of things. Me and my mom still read to each other over the holidays."  
  
" I wish I could say something like that." Harry realized how much he had missed out, not having parents. It always struck him oddly shocking that he turned out a normal kid without any good role models.  
  
A thunder clap roared the sky open, a heaving white mouth of a bear, gleaming with white teeth that sailed down to gnaw on the fresh earth. Then, the response of rain followed.  
  
" Maybe you'd like to spend your winter with my family, Harry. We don't have much, but at least you might feel welcome and warm." Hermione suggested.  
  
" Do you mean it?" Harry exclaimed.  
  
" Sure." She replied. Her hand took his, an action coming so naturally that Harry wasn't even startled to feel her slightly cold and slender fingers around his palm. Hermione gently gave his hand a squeeze and then she motioned to Hagrid's hut. " Is Hagrid still away?"  
  
" Yes. He went off to Hogsmeade again, searching for that wood." Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes. " I'm glad Hagrid's found himself a hobby and all, but I really think its going too far."  
  
" I'd say. He'd even given Madame Hooch his own, home-made chair, which could fit a well-sized bear from what I see." Hermione grinned.  
  
Suddenly, the sound of music filled their ears as the dance floor in Hogwarts was occupied again by merrily dancing couples. "It's dancing again. Want to go back?" Harry offered.  
  
" No." Hermione replied.  
  
Then, she added: " We can dance here."  
  
" Here?" Harry couldn't help but look down on the muddy mess of earth beneath his feet. He was nervous, and would love to interfere with the dancing if he could, knowing that he'd probably mess up and embarrass himself: " Wouldn't that be interfering with nature? We can cause a mudslide."  
  
" Don't back out now." She took his other hand and placed it on her hip. The rain swished past them as she began the first rotation, then they stopped and they moved backwards, then another rotation.  
  
Soon Harry had forgotten his feet for the elated feeling inside him was spinning him in tune to the dance without the use of any elementary dancing skill at all.  
  
The rain saturated both their clothing, but neither cared. Hermione smiled as another thunderbolt flashed the sky. Then, Harry stopped dancing for she looked funny.  
  
Her eyes were slowly tracing him, then stopped at needlepoint to his own, her eyebrows arching upwards as she asked:  
  
" Should we go back?"  
  
Harry shook his head. " I'd rather dance out here."  
  
" See? I knew you'd like it." Hermione took his hand and then guided him around again, the mud now not even an obstruction beneath his feet, despite the annoyance of its sickening squishing. Everything was lost again in a whirlwind of swirls and dance rhythms.  
  
It was at least a good twenty minutes before they returned to the canopied walkway and headed to the dance again.  
  
" That was fun." Hermione smiled. " I can't believe you wanted to go outside in a rainstorm. I'd have not dared to go alone, so I really owe it to you."  
  
" I only went since I thought you'd go anyway." Harry admitted.  
  
She laughed. They were now standing in front of the door and Hermione leaned back on the wooden door, her hair scattering on her shoulders, and she titled her head up slightly.  
  
It was too perfect.  
  
Harry saw these kinds of moments in the movies before, on Muggle television, and even in books.  
  
So he should have been unsurprised by what happened next but somewhat he still was, even as he thought back to the moment many days later.  
  
For just as another thunderclap rattled the night air, Hermione had kissed him.  
  
Author's Note: I just couldn't wait to write this chapter, I'd been running it over in my mind all day. I suppose this is shorter then ch. 1 and 3 but longer then ch.2. I wasn't intending for anything too shocking, Hermione kissed Harry before. (Book 4, last page, on the cheek). No, I don't own Harry Potter. Do I have to repeat this in every chapter?  
  
P.S. Thank you for all the nice reviews, it's really nice to know that people like this fan fiction. I try very hard to make my stories funny, cute, and not vulgar. 


	5. A Blissful Kiss in Remembrance and Shock...

1 Author's Repetitive Note: Eh. I don't own Harry Potter. Sorry.  
  
2 Chapter 5  
  
A blissful kiss in remembrance  
  
and  
  
Shocks galore  
  
  
  
" You kissed Herm? How did it feel like? Tell me!" Ron insisted, his voice barely loud enough for Harry to hear but to keep the other boys in the common room away from the conversation.  
  
Harry smiled into his pillow, not knowing what he should say. It felt almost dirty to speak of it now, as he thought of it with somewhat a happy pleasure. " It felt alright."  
  
" Alright? Did it taste like anything?" Ron demanded to know.  
  
" Oh, Ron, do you honestly think I thought about what it felt like or tasted like or what it must have looked like if some bumbling fool where to see it out the Hogwarts window? No." Harry turned his head, facing Ron from his bed.  
  
" It must have felt like one thing or another. You couldn't say it felt like kissing the back of your hand or something, because that's about as lousy as it gets." Ron replied, sitting up in his four-poster.  
  
" What do you want me to say?" Harry asked.  
  
" Is it true?" Ron asked, sheepishly.  
  
" What's true?" Harry could feel something silly coming.  
  
" That it tastes like chicken?"  
  
" No!" Harry laughed.  
  
" Hey, keep it down, will ya?" George mumbled wearily in his sleep.  
  
" Sorry." Harry brought his voice down to a whisper: " I'd say it was anything but chicken."  
  
" Really?" Ron frowned. " Did her lipstick get all over your teeth? That would be pretty disgusting."  
  
" No! Nothing like that." Harry hugged his pillow closely. "Alright, I'll let you in on something sappy. Don't laugh."  
  
" I won't."  
  
" It sort of felt as if everything stopped and the only thing alive and existing were her and me. People are right, about fireworks and all going off. Maybe it was just my heart exploding." Harry could swear he'd burn a black hole through his pillow, the way his face was burning in a blush. " Great, I sound like a complete sap."  
  
Ron was trying hard to muffle his laughter. Then, he said, trying to keep a straight face though the corners of his mouth were twitching upwards still in laughter: " How will you ever speak to her again?"  
  
" I don't know. How will I talk to her?" Harry rolled onto his back now, looking dreamily out the window at the finishing touches of the downpour outside. " Will I be confined to only speaking about the kiss from now on? I mean, how can I speak to her about normal things again. . ."  
  
" I can't believe its still raining." Harry added after a while of silence.  
  
" It's England, Harry, what do you expect? If it's not raining, it's snowing, and if it isn't snowing, a great flock of seagulls is blocking the sun." Ron muttered.  
  
" Now, that's not true." Harry replied. " England's got alright weather."  
  
" Who cares about weather. What did you and her do? How did she react? How did you react?" Ron grinned, knowing how much it was torturing Harry inside to speak up about these things.  
  
" Really, you guys, I couldn't care less." George was now sounding a bit angrier.  
  
" She seemed surprised with herself. I was just kind of blanked out. It seemed to unreal that I didn't really believe it happened. I sort of kept telling myself: that did not just happen. That did not just happen." Harry admitted. " Then, we walked back inside and I couldn't speak to her much again through the whole dance except when we parted to go to our own beds."  
  
" What did you say?" Ron leaned forwards.  
  
" Don't make me shove a pillow down your throat." Now Fred joined in.  
  
" That's what you said?" Ron laughed, thinking that the answer coming from Fred was Harry's reply.  
  
" No!" Harry said, and then continued after giving Fred a sharp look: " I told her good night and she said the same and we just went out own way."  
  
" You should have kissed her again." Ron commented.  
  
Just then, someone stepped into their room. It was Professor McGonagall, her face stern and drawn wearily. " Boys! What's all this talking about?"  
  
" Harry got his first kiss." George spoke up before Harry could say something neutral, like 'nothing'.  
  
Professor McGonagall smiled at Harry, then turned stern again. " There will not be another word in this room, do we have an understanding? Just a little down the hall we have the girl's rooms and they aren't quite pleased with the chitchat."  
  
" They could hear?" Ron gasped out.  
  
" Of course not! All they heard was gibberish, but it was the fact that there was the noise in the first place." Fred commented.  
  
" How would you know of the acoustics in the girl's rooms, Mr. Weasley?" Professor McGonagall questioned, then before any replies could be heard, she slammed the door with a firm: " Good night."  
  
Harry was relieved, hoping that now he'd get to sleep a bit, but he was horribly wrong. Just as the door had closed, Ron whispered again:  
  
" Lavender kept asking me about you, you know."  
  
" Well, good for her." Harry mumbled sleepily. Then, she let out a low snore, which of course was fake since he himself knew he didn't snore. It did give Ron a hint, though.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The next morning, just at the stroke of dawn, Harry was up and ready for breakfast. He hadn't slept too well at all, and his scar kept hurting at intervals all through the night, and once he'd be awake, the pain would be gone, almost on purpose. Harry felt the scar on his forehead anyhow, wondering whether the coming and going pains would ever turn out to mean anything. Perhaps he was having some sort of freak migraines, the kind Aunt Petunia suffered and blamed upon Harry if they were especially painful to her.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes at the ridiculous thought as he dressed into his Hogwarts daily uniform and then looked in the mirror to check on himself. He noted how much more often he'd checked the mirror then before. Pretty soon he'd be like Fred and George, sitting in front of the mirror for a good hour, styling their hair just right and complaining about the tiny pimple that would sometimes appear on their foreheads or nose.  
  
The silence in the hallway surprised Harry as he stepped out. It might have been a bit early, but not that early. His footsteps were loud and clattering compared to the peaceful serenity surrounding him.  
  
He had promised Hermione to meet him that morning to work on the case of the mysterious letter a few hours before they'd gone to the dance. He intended to keep his word, despite how uncomfortable he'd feel now around her.  
  
Harry stopped in front of the library to check his pocket if he'd taken his wand this time. He had. Then, he walked inside and seeing Hermione, he said:  
  
" Well, hello."  
  
She looked up from a thick black book the size of a good encyclopedia and replied: " Oh! Hello, Harry."  
  
" So, what are you up to now?" He sat down across the table from her, biting his tongue hard not to smile foolishly though he desperately wanted to. It felt so strange speaking to her, as if something heavy and unsaid was hanging in the air above them like a little thundercloud.  
  
" I think that I might have traced the writing to a list of people. I volunteered at every single one of my teachers to help them grade papers so I could get handwriting samples." Hermione said.  
  
" Wow! All that for a prank note?" Harry questioned.  
  
" It isn't a prank note. I have a feeling this is something SERIOUS." She pronounced the word as if it were a sentence all by itself.  
  
" So what suspects did you get?" Harry inquired.  
  
" There's a few. I have Lavender, Parvati, Ginny Weasley (I doubt that, truly, but the handwriting loosely fits it), a few girls you do not know but I do. . . she flipped through her note cards again. ". . . And Rebecca Crick, and Cho Chang."  
  
" Cho has a different handwriting. She writes all bitsy and squeezed together." Harry protested.  
  
" If you look closely, it looks that it could have been written by Cho if she had tried to fake a handwriting by increasing the size of the letters." Hermione pointed at the handwriting sample and then at the note menacingly.  
  
" How did you get Cho and Rebecca's papers? They're in an older grade."  
  
" I know that. Professor McGonagall had a few papers form Cho from a few years ago which she used to demonstrate the way a correct paper should be written, and Rebecca's writing was easily identified by a note from her to one of her friends in the waste."  
  
Harry examined the handwritings. " They don't look that much alike, and yet they all have some characteristic of the note you got."  
  
" That's right. I need more clues, perhaps another note to help me out. Then I can look for a pattern, you know, just like the government does it!" Hermione smiled excitedly.  
  
" Oh." Harry bit his tongue harder, knowing any second now he'll crack up like a bloody fool. He couldn't explain his feelings at all, he just felt like laughing.  
  
" Now, then, if you've ever seen the way Draco Malfoy writes, you'd undoubtedly assume he must either be a girl or a very neat young man, because all his letters are perfectly aligned and shaped just the most perfect way. Why on earth are you smiling so funny?" Hermione suddenly asked.  
  
" Nothing. Can't I smile?" Harry replied.  
  
" You can smile, but that's a pretty odd smile you have there." Hermione herself suddenly grinned.  
  
" I wash up every morning, you know. If I look funny, I can't help that, can I?" Harry smiled even wider, knowing that Hermione didn't mean it that way.  
  
" I didn't mean it that way." Hermione told him, nevertheless.  
  
" Sure you didn't." Harry leaned back on the library chair and then picked up Draco's handwriting sample. " Moving on . . . I suppose you're right. This is terribly close to the note's handwriting, except see this. Malfoy likes to cap his T's and then draw lines through his A's and G's normally, while the note shows someone who takes the last letter of the word and takes the line to cap the T's and draw lines through. . ."  
  
" Oh!" Hermione looked at the note closely. " Indeed. And even if you try to forge that, it wouldn't have been so convincing, it takes some practice to make loops like that."  
  
Filch had by now walked into the library and stared at Hermione and Harry, saying: " Now, what are you young hooligans doing up at this hour?"  
  
" We're studying. Huge exam today, Mr.Filch." Hermione lied, her honest and somber eyes full of a little twinkle of laughter.  
  
Filch grunted and then said: "Carry on." His hunched back slowly disappeared behind a large bookshelf.  
  
Harry gave her a thumb's up sign, then said: " Good job. You can lie better then anyone I know."  
  
Hermione shrugged and then flipped the note over and held it up to the light. " I was inspecting this for maybe a water crest on it or some sort of marking to show where its from. Now, look at that."  
  
Up to the light, Harry could see the words 'From the Office of Sir Malfoy'. " Malfoy's dad?" Harry exclaimed. " I really don't think his handwriting's that girly."  
  
" No, silly! Not his dad, exactly, but perhaps his son, or someone who his dad might write to or give a notepad to or something." Hermione thought hard. " His dad does have lots of friends, and many people loll around their house all the time. There's not much we can narrow it down by."  
  
" You're right. Someone might have even found this paper in the garbage or they could have stolen it, and then we can't trace that." Harry leaned on his elbows over the table again, his finger pointing at the point of the note where the word 'Potter' was evident. " Malfoy calls me Potter all the time, though, which annoys the heck out of me."  
  
" You're right. Malfoy should be first on our list." Hermione scribbled in Draco's name on the top of the list of suspects.  
  
" Should we question him or something?" Harry asked.  
  
" Like he'll answer honestly." Hermione scoffed.  
  
" That's true." Harry set his chair on its four legs and then stood up. " We should get going to breakfast. I'd say this was a productive meeting, won't you?"  
  
" Sure." Hermione grinned again.  
  
Harry helped her put the large detective book into its original slot on the dusty old mahogany bookshelf and then they were out the door.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The breakfast hall smelled as it always did: sausage, pancakes, and a few new additions to the table, and as always, the faint smell of people.  
  
" It's so cold!" Hermione shivered as she sat down at the table beside the Weasley twins and Ron. Harry slid in across the table next to Ron.  
  
" I suppose they'll get around to making it warm up in here. I suppose it's a complicated spell to heat this place up a bit." Harry rubbed his numbed fingers together.  
  
" They should, if they don't want to teach a school if icicles." Ron said, his teeth chattering.  
  
Their heads turned as Draco Malfoy and Rebecca Crick strolled into the room, Rebecca's hand and Draco's hand twined somewhat together.  
  
" That Rebecca couldn't possibly like Draco. I wonder what she wants from him." Hermione whispered to Harry, her eyes on the blond-haired boy and tall, dark-eyed girl.  
  
" I don't even want to know." Harry replied.  
  
They waited in silence for the food to come, and once it did, they ate slowly, trying to make the meal last longer then in was meant to. Usually they'd be full after ten minutes or so, and then there'd be almost half an hour left to just sit there and stare at other people eating. Harry planned to eat very slowly today.  
  
" What's wrong, Harry? You're not even eating." Ron noticed this right away.  
  
" I'm a turtle on Prozac. What can I do?" Harry replied, sarcastically, then added: " Truthfully, I just don't want to end up being done and waiting for everyone else to finish. It doesn't feel quite right to watch others eat while I don't."  
  
" Harry, remind me, I need to say something very important to you, in private." Ron announced in his ear.  
  
Just as Harry was beginning to puzzle over the secretive words, Malfoy's defiant scream rocked the air. " What did you do?" Hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to see what the infamous blonde was up to now.  
  
The twins were behind his chair, cackling in an unusual way, while Malfoy's hair was a terrible mess, completely undone from its usual hair- sprayed position. Water trickled down his face and dripped finally from his chin. Harry had never seen someone this silently furious in his whole entire life.  
  
" Hey, it was just a joke. Now you really need cooling off." Fred joked, nervously.  
  
" Mr. Fred and George Weasley!" A loud shout came from Professor McGonagall. " I'd like to see you in my office at this very moment."  
  
Harry was outraged. " I told them not to do that! Why are they so mean?"  
  
" It's just Draco." Hermione replied.  
  
" Just Draco? He'll think I made them do it, and then I'll get beat up again, and. . ." Harry felt his face flush. " . . . I'll look like an idiot again."  
  
Just then, Rebecca crick shot up to her feet, her face shooting I'll- kill-you-all glances at Harry, Hermione, and Ron, for no particular reason other then what Harry said - they'll be blamed for making the twins do it.  
  
Harry then looked at Draco. Draco's face was one of complete loathing, the kind of face only a lion could have when a stupid hyena stills its prey. For once, though, Draco was silent. So furious, that he was dead quiet, just like the room. Only his eyes blazed with a hate everyone knew they should never try to create.  
  
Harry felt his scar explode with a sudden pain. He bit his lip until it hurt to keep from crying out. Nobody noticed, or so it seemed, and it went away quickly, but he wondered whether it was Malfoy who did it - with how his loathsome anger was beaming around.  
  
Then, suddenly, more shock came - the water that had been curiously spilled onto Malfoy produced a horrible, red, swelling rash that nearly devoured all of Draco. His eyes shot open in horror as he jumped to his feet. His eyes met with Harry's and then slowly narrowed. Harry knew what Draco must have thought - that he was behind it.  
  
Madame Pomfrey was summoned immediately and she helped walk Draco to the hospital wing. Everyone was laughing, nearly, except for a few faithful Slytherins and Harry. Harry didn't understand why the Weasleys were so insistent on making Draco be publicly humiliated. Malfoy might have been cold and mean but he was a person too.  
  
" Gosh, Harry, it's only a joke. You look as if you've seen some sort of crime." Hermione whispered in his ear.  
  
Harry looked at her, then looked away. " I think its just not fair."  
  
Rebecca was still furiously shooting death looks around the room at all the laughing people, then Cho took her hand and tried to comfort her friend.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
As Harry walked down the hall to Potions class, the book held tightly in his hands, he felt as if he'd get a heart attack of fright as someone grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him backwards into the nearest room.  
  
" What in the blazes. . .?" Harry gasped, ripping out of the person's arms and then glaring madly at whomever it was that had dared pull him like that.  
  
Then, he realized he was in the old, dilapidated girl's bathroom of Moaning Myrtle's residence, which was no less comforting then the fact that Ron was standing in front of him, his freckles blending with his red and angry cheeks.  
  
" Harry, I thought I told you I needed to talk to you." Ron told him. " Well, don't just stand there stupidly, you can't be all to surprised."  
  
" Yeah, I suppose one minor heart attack isn't too great a shock." Harry muttered.  
  
" Oh, cut it out. Listen, Charlie's being interrogated night and day now. All I know is that something awful is happening that the press can't hear about, and that it deals with You-Know-Who."  
  
" What now?" Harry asked.  
  
" Is that you, Harry?" Moaning Myrtle moaned out. " and I thought things would finally be back to normal. But no! Look how miserable I am now again!" Loud sobs racked the ghost from the stall next door.  
  
Ron shrugged at Harry's puzzled face and continued, ignoring the ghost: " I think that the best thing for you, Harry, is to keep an eye out. And I mean a huge, thousand-watt eyeball, full-power."  
  
" It's on my to-do list." Harry joked.  
  
" Harry! This is serious! I'm in a girl's bathroom to help you, for goodness sakes."  
  
" Alright, I'll watch out." Harry assured his red-haired friend. "Can I go to Potions now?"  
  
" Yes." Ron stepped back and Harry walked out of the bathroom.  
  
They walked in silence to Potions, and were greeted by Professor Snape at the door. "Late, are we?" Snape asked.  
  
" Late?" Ron asked.  
  
" Yes. If you look at the clock, Mister Weasley, it's precisely two and a half seconds past the beginning of class."  
  
" Those two seconds passed while you were talking to us!" Ron protested.  
  
" Is that so?" Snape took a deep and angry breath. "Five points from Gryffindor for not admitting to the truth."  
  
Harry pushed past the teacher and into the room, sitting himself down with a huff by Hermione. She asked: "Where did you stop? You're late."  
  
" I'm aware of that. Ron had to speak with me." Harry replied.  
  
" Oh. I wonder what's wrong with Professor Snape today, it seems he's in a lousy mood again and I can't really understand why." She licked her lips tentatively.  
  
" Black cat crossed his path, maybe walked under one too many ladders. Who knows." Harry opened his Potions book and then suddenly realized something: " A new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"  
  
" I doubt it. That position is fairly accursed in this school." Hermione sighed. " I wish, though, I'm sick of two classes with Snape."  
  
Professor Snape dragged in another late student and then walked towards the class, his black hair fluttering in a wild mess behind him. Once he was facing all the students, he barked at them: " Open your books to page forty-seven! Today we'll be reading silently all class!"  
  
Neville looked upset. He hated silent reading for he had the habit to read aloud to himself and the terrible Professor most certainly would point it out.  
  
They read in silence until Harry felt Hermione slip a paper into his hand. He took it and then pulled it open, reading the words:  
  
Malfoy wrote the note. I'm sure of it.  
  
" How can you be sure?" Harry asked her, in a whisper.  
  
" Mister Potter, would you like to share with us what you are whispering passionately to Miss Granger?" Professor Snape asked.  
  
The class was flooded with giggles and a few sighs from the girls.  
  
Harry didn't know what to reply. Finally, Hermione spoke for him:  
  
" We were speaking of how he was late, and he was telling me why he was late." She once again managed to pull off a convincing lie.  
  
" From now on, not a single whisper. Do not even breathe loudly." Professor Snape said menacingly. Everyone obeyed and a loud gulp was heard from Neville.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
In Professor Trelawney's class, some strange prophesies had occurred. Lavender had found out from the strange teacher about how her palm showed a fascinating love line, and then she commented on how Lavender was a deceitful lover, able to be in love with someone and at the same time wed someone else for pure spite.  
  
Lavender turned red and glanced at Harry, who wasn't really paying too much attention to the prophecy until that point.  
  
" Now, then, I will read Harry's palm, to give him an update, while all of you try and figure out how to read your love lines - it's the most popularly read one, you know." Professor Trelawney moved towards Harry, her mysteriously deep eyes focusing momentarily on his tightly-clenched hands, then asked: "Are you afraid?"  
  
" No." Harry replied, then realized his knuckles had turned white and quickly unrolled his fists, showing all his private hand lines.  
  
" Ah! Much better." She took his hand and then muttered something to herself in what sounded like Latin, reviewing an old book in her head on the subject of palm reading, most likely.  
  
" Get ready to find out your dooms day." Ron whispered into his ear.  
  
Neville laughed as he looked at his hand. "That's funny." He finally said to Ron and Harry. " My love line means that I am a popular lady's man, with great. . ." He stopped, pronouncing the word slowly: " affair d'amour. What the heck does that mean?"  
  
" Means you have lots of romance in your life. Go figure." Ron then glanced at his own love line. " I can't translate this for all I'm worth."  
  
" Patience." Madame Trelawney said in a hollow voice. Then, she suddenly stood up again. " My, Harry, there's incredible amounts of twists and misfortunes in your life. And a short life it will be - you'll die young."  
  
" How young?" Harry asked.  
  
" That I cannot say. It will distress you for the rest of the time you have on this Earth." Madame Trelawney shook her head with sadness and then walked over to Parvati, who was cursing openly at her palm, which didn't show her what she wanted it to read.  
  
Madame Trelawney, after explaining gently to Parvati that she had to accept what her palm said, went to read Ron's palm now. Ron held it out eagerly, his eyes sparkling with excitement.  
  
Madame Trelawney tapped his love line with her finger and said: " Now, this tells me that you are jealous of a relationship one of your friends is having, and this here tells me that you also like a younger girl, a friend of one of your relatives."  
  
" That's crazy." Ron murmured.  
  
" I'm just saying what I see." Madame Trelawney said gently.  
  
" Well, I'll tell you what I see." Ron stared at his hand with a definite blank look in his eyes and then said: " I'll be rich and the Quidditch captain, and I'll be holding the House Cup with beautiful girls drooling on me, and. . ."  
  
" Alright, that's enough, Ron, before you start drooling yourself." Harry teased.  
  
" You shush, Harry." Ron continued: " Also, I think I can see myself winning the Noble Peace Prize. . ."  
  
" For what?" Neville questioned.  
  
" I'll get to that. Also, I'm riding a Firebolt, and I'll have the biggest house in the world. . ."  
  
" Stop!" Madame Trelawney shouted. " Do not make a mockery of palm reading!"  
  
" Right, then." Ron immediately grew silent.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
  
  
Dinner was unusually silent and upsetting, as if something doomed and frightening was hanging in the air, waiting to crash down like bad news usually does.  
  
Hermione was oddly silent as well, her fork swirling through her mashed potatoes without any visible interest in the meal. "Hermione, it isn't quite nice to play with your food." Harry finally said, hoping to get some reaction from her.  
  
" Harry, don't you feel that thing in the air?" She asked him.  
  
" Uh. . . no." He lied. Harry didn't like speaking of bad luck hanging in the air, just in case it did come true.  
  
" I think that perhaps we should speak of why I suspect Draco Malfoy?" She suggested. " It just might be a bit more of an interesting topic. Nothing seemed to happen all of today worth much noting."  
  
" I am wondering, you know, why you suspect him so much." Harry admitted.  
  
" Listen to this: see how Draco has the unique way of writing his C's starting from the bottom and up to the top instead of top to bottom like most people do? Well, it makes his C's curve to the left a bit and therefore the note shows exactly the same C's." Hermione sounded as if she's thought about this for a very long time.  
  
" You know what?" Harry finally said, after letting a bit of a silence go by.  
  
" What?" She asked.  
  
" You need a hobby. I have a hobby - Quidditch. You - you have interpreting handwriting." Harry tried to sound somewhat friendly as he said it, though he was a little disgusted with her 'hobby'.  
  
" It's not a hobby. This is very serious for me, I want to find out who wrote it since I think this isn't just a simple prank but a very serious thing." Hermione frowned.  
  
" I know that it's somewhat serious, getting a threat letter, but we didn't get another one and nothing seems to be happening. Maybe somebody was just trying to scare you a bit and then gave up." Harry told her.  
  
" I don't know." She looked down at her hands. " I just don't know."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
About an hour later, Harry stopped Hermione in the hallway and said: "Herm, I just wanted to apologize. I feel really bad about how I didn't seem to enthusiastic about that letter."  
  
" It's alright." She said, trying to look happier then she was. "I can't force you to be interested in the things I am, that wouldn't be fair."  
  
" Yeah, but I could have been nicer." Harry replied.  
  
" It's alright." She repeated herself.  
  
" Can I make it up to you somehow? Maybe you have some books you'd like me to read, or some investigating to do?" Harry took her hands. " Come on, don't hesitate."  
  
She grinned. " You don't have to do anything."  
  
" What if I do?" He leaned his head close, their foreheads bumping. Harry was decisive when he was feeling brave, and right now he was as brave as he could get.  
  
" Well. . . well . . ." She stammered, embarrassed. Her eyes looked up to face his emerald green ones and she spoke: " You know how we will be going to Hogsmeade in two days, on a trip?"  
  
" I know." He replied, her hair tickling his cheeks.  
  
" I've been thinking if you'd like to be my partner on the trip. We all have to have partners, after all, and if you aren't going with Ron, then maybe you'd like to go with me?" She seemed hopeful. " I don't think I'd like to go with anyone else better."  
  
" I'd love to go with you." He said.  
  
She smiled. " Good."  
  
" That's really more of a good thing for you and for me, though. Maybe there's a favor I can do just for you, that won't be fun for me?" He asked. " Like. . . reading those hard books you like so much." He grimaced.  
  
" I wouldn't do that to you!" She exclaimed.  
  
" Oh yes you would." He replied. Lavender walked by just then and seeing how closely together Harry and Hermione were standing, blushed furiously and quite angrily and then walked the other way quickly. " I know this means a lot to you, and if it does, then it will just have to mean a lot to me."  
  
" Alright, fine!" She gave in. "It would be a huge favor if you could somehow try and see if you might now some other people with handwriting matches."  
  
" I will." He replied. "Is that all?"  
  
Her eyes dropped down again, her head moving down against his cheek. He kissed the top of her forehead.  
  
Harry then blushed and said: " I should go talk with Neville. He's pretty upset about how he accidentally tripped Colin Creevey and broke his camera."  
  
" He broke Colin's camera?" Hermione exclaimed, her face also red.  
  
" Yeah. Well, see ya." Harry pulled away like a magnet does when meeting its pole with the same side - a force so instant and great that it was almost exaggerated.  
  
As Harry walked away, Hermione's hand went up to feel the place on her forehead where he'd kissed her, then she slowly moved farther down the hall herself.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry found himself in an especially crowded hallway, filled with people of all sorts pushing here and there in a general clamor and din.  
  
A giant crowd was standing around a bulletin board in the hallway. Everyone was pushing and shoving to get a close view of what was hanging there, and others were exclaiming or crying with fright, especially the girls.  
  
Harry made his ways through the crowd, wondering what it was himself.  
  
His eyes caught a newspaper article, and then his jaw dropped:  
  
" You-Know-Who kills first victim"  
  
Author's Note: I know, I know, I slacked off and made this one the shortest - measly 5000 words. Next chapter will be better - I just wanted to end this one with a bit of a surprise. :) 


	6. There Were No Flowers

1 Chapter 6  
  
there were no flowers  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione called a desperate meeting in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom instead of going to breakfast. On the way, Ron crunched an apple with a smile.  
  
Once they found themselves in the bathroom, Hermione took one quick (and blush-inducing) look at Harry and then at Ron, only to announce: "Ew! He ate the sticker!"  
  
" Gross! Why don't you eat the core, too?" Harry turned to the bewildered Ron.  
  
" Hey! Leave me be, okay?" Ron replied, taking another happy bite from his apple.  
  
" Now, let's get this meeting to the point, shall we? You-Know-Who's attack!" Hermione said, threateningly, her eyes widening. She looked around at the two boys beside her. " Now, I know that everyone here most likely feels that You-Know-Who is on the rise, ready to go on a killing frenzy. But did you read who the Muggle killed was?"  
  
" No." Harry whispered.  
  
" It was a co-worker of Charlie, named Timothy Rower, who was in charge of the documents of English Whitescales. I did some digging and found this out quite incidentally." Hermione looked lost in thought for a second, then continued: " I only wonder why he'd want information on English Whitescales."  
  
Ron and Harry exchanged guilty looks. Ron then mouthed: "Remember! You promised not to tell! It's a government thing, you know."  
  
Harry had become quite good at reading lips to figure out what people meant from the way that their mouth would form words. Harry clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in contemplation at whether some secrets have to be told, promise or not.  
  
" Harry, this is just more proof that you HAVE to keep hidden." Hermione's grief-stricken face turned to him. " It's an Avada Kedavra curse that killed Timothy."  
  
" The same that hit Charlie." Harry mouthed to Ron, covering the side of his mouth with his hand so that Hermione couldn't see the words his lips formed.  
  
" You guys! What are you whispering about?" Hermione looked upset.  
  
" We're saying how beautiful you are." Ron said, a fake and cheesy smile growing on his face.  
  
Hermione looked untouched. In fact, she seemed angry. "Can't you two listen to anything semi-serious without turning it into a joke?"  
  
" We don't think it's a joke!" Harry said, quickly.  
  
" Then listen. I need to know any clues you can get about this. Perhaps you can find things out, Ron; Charlie is your brother. He might even have some clues on English Whitescales."  
  
" Yeah." Ron laughed nervously. " Can we go now?"  
  
" Yes, you can go now." Hermione smiled.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry had received a letter from Sirius, and he read it quickly. It had no new information other then his hopes on getting to be cleared. Harry wrote back and then sent Hedgwig with the letter.  
  
He suddenly realized he'd forgotten to switch owls!  
  
The queasiness in his stomach nearly smashed his stomach as he thought that Sirius might be traced and found now. The feeling in his stomach did not go away as lunchtime neared. As Harry walked into the lunchroom, Draco stopped him.  
  
" So, Potter, were you the one who ordered the twins to spill that water on me?"  
  
" No." Harry replied. " Did you write a threat letter to Hermione?"  
  
Draco looked surprised. " What are you talking about?"  
  
" Never mind." Harry pushed past Draco and into the dining hall. Hermione was sitting silently at the table with a great puzzled look on her face.  
  
" What's wrong, Herm?" Harry asked her.  
  
She looked at him and then held a small paper up to his nose. "Read this."  
  
Harry looked at the note. It was another threat letter. This one read: 'Stop being so smart if you care what's good for you and Potter'.  
  
" This is just ridiculous." Harry exclaimed. " Throw it away, and don't bother paying it any attention."  
  
" I'll try not to." Hermione replied, but kept the note.  
  
" Now, I want to tell you something awful. I had a dream today, and sometimes my dreams somewhat come true, though not always." Harry glanced around himself, and then continued: " It was about Voldemort."  
  
" Shh!" Hermione cringed at the name.  
  
" Sorry. Anyway, I saw You-Know-Who, but not his face. I just saw a shape and knew it was him. He told me to join him and I said no. Then I woke up with the most painful ache in my scar." Harry sighed. " It must be the most horrible pain in the world."  
  
" No. Have you ever thought of a woman giving birth?" Hermione asked.  
  
" What do you think I am, some kind of sicko?" Harry looked stricken.  
  
" Harry, what I mean is, that's real pain. What you feel cannot compare to that. My mother told me enough about it, trust me." She shuddered.  
  
" I'll take your word for it." Harry said.  
  
" I need to find out if Draco wrote these letters. I'm starting to notice something. He hates how I'm a . . . know-it-all, supposedly. He even made fun of it in the hospital room, when I went to visit you. Remember?"  
  
" Yeah." Harry agreed. " But I asked Draco about it and he was honestly completely bewildered by what I meant."  
  
" He's a good actor, Harry. You don't think he'll come right out and say that he did it, do you?" She asked.  
  
" Of course not."  
  
" Well, then, my point is made." Hermione glanced at the food that was slowly appearing on the table and readied a fork to put some things onto her plate.  
  
" We're going to Hogsmeade today, by the way, Harry. Do you remember?" Hermione asked him.  
  
" I sure do." He replied.  
  
" Do you think we should still be partners? It could be dangerous to have you out in town like that." Hermione looked doubtful.  
  
" I'll just keep an eye out." Harry said.  
  
" Well, if you're sure about it."  
  
" I am." Harry then turned to see Ron sitting down, a bag of candy in his hands. " Wow, Ron, you struck gold!"  
  
" I know! Look at all these sweets." Ron popped a chocolate frog into his mouth. " This was all a gift from Lavender to me. She told me to show you and Hermione so that you'd see what a happy couple we are."  
  
" Uh . . . yeah." Harry said, softly. "That's great, Ron."  
  
" Isn't it?" Ron pushed a few jellybeans in his mouth.  
  
" Don't eat the whole bag at once. You'll get sick." Hermione warned.  
  
" So?" Ron smiled mischievously and kept eating. Harry rolled his eyes and then asked Hermione: " Do you think You-Know-Who will attack other people, as well?"  
  
" How do I know?" Hermione shrugged. " I just know one thing. You- Know-Who isn't going to attack for no reason at all and then stop attacking."  
  
" I agree with that." Harry said, nodding.  
  
" Is Hagrid back from Hogsmeade yet?" Ron suddenly asked, an abstract thought coming from him once again. Ron loved to change subjects.  
  
" He is." Harry replied. " I spoke with him yesterday."  
  
"Students!" Professor McGonagall said from the front of the room. " Eat quickly, we will be leaving for Hogsmeade soon."  
  
Ron shoveled another handful of jellybeans into his mouth, then coughed. " Yuck! There was a dirt-flavored one somewhere in there . . ."  
  
" Gross." Hermione ate a bit of her toast, then asked Harry: "Do you think Hogsmeade will be fun this year? I fear it could grow monotonous soon."  
  
" It'll be fun. We're partners, aren't we?" Harry grinned.  
  
" What? You are?" Ron choked on some unidentified candy and then glared at Hermione. " I'd like to know since when! I thought Harry and I would go together."  
  
" Aw, I'm sorry, Ron." Harry said, softly. " I just wanted to go with Herm, that's all."  
  
" Oh. Well, that makes it all fine, doesn't it?" Ron looked very hurt as he stood up. " I think I'll go find myself another partner. Hey Neville!"  
  
Ron was walking away.  
  
" Just what I needed: Ron to be mad at me." Harry put his head down on the table.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Hogsmeade glowed with a happy cheer that the town could only give. It was cold and a fog was rolling in, giving the lights in all the shop windows an extra glow. Harry stopped right away at the small trinket shop, with an ancient sign out front:  
  
Buy All Your Strange Goods Here!  
  
Though the sign didn't look promising to the quality of content the story might hold, Harry grinned lightly at Hermione and pushed the door open with the jingle of a bell.  
  
" Pick something." He told her, reaching in his pocket to take hold of a few Galleons deep within.  
  
" There's so many things!" She looked around in awe, her eyes filled with the light of the candles dancing in the room. The shopkeeper, an old man sitting in a leather-wrapped chair, looked up from the newspaper he was studying to give Harry a smile. "Why, you're Harry Potter!"  
  
" True." Harry said, cocking his head lightly to the side.  
  
Hermione had by now tried putting on various pretty rings from the racks. She especially liked a small golden one with a purple shiny gem, her favorite color.  
  
" I see you've come with a girl to buy her something nice?" The old man's grizzled face changed into an odd smile, the skin graft off to the side of his cheek white on his wind-burned face.  
  
" I sure did." Harry put his hands in his pockets and tried to look confident and proud, though his stomach was floating with butterflies.  
  
" She's a pretty girl." The old man leaned on his hand; his elbow propped up on the dusty desk. " Say, I'll let you buy two rings at the price of one. How about it?"  
  
" Oh, thank you!" Harry beamed, then turned to Hermione, who was now studying a ring with a red stone in it. She nodded, and then turned to the man:  
  
" Thank you very much, sir."  
  
" You're quite welcome." The old man pulled out his old wizard's cash register and then said: " Have you chosen two, already?"  
  
" Not yet." Hermione admitted. "They're all really pretty, and cheap, too. I suppose once rings like these could easily be made by magic nowadays."  
  
" That's true." The old man ran a few fingers through the thinning hair on his head (mostly gray with currents of black running through it like the white crests on a river of blue), then clacked a few keys on the register, out of pure boredom. " So, Harry, you're studying at Hogwarts?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
" I've gone there. Nice school, it is. Dumbledore's hanging alright?"  
  
" Yeah. Dumbledore's alright."  
  
" Harry! I want these rings!" Hermione held her hand out with the purple-stoned ring, and on the pinkie she had a little red-stoned one with tiny sparkles inside.  
  
" Oh! Those sparkles, so you know, are the frozen tears of a phoenix. Rings like these are considered to have healing powers." The old man smiled as he rang the price up. "That will be . . ."  
  
Harry smiled and put down a few Galleons. " I'll pay for both of them, sir, and a little tip. Thank you."  
  
Then, Harry walked out of the shop with Hermione as they just caught up with the end of the Hogwarts students that trailed behind. These included Draco, Crabbe (with new pearly-white teeth), and Goyle.  
  
" Harry, I can't thank you enough. I'd always wanted some nice rings, like Lavender or Parvati!" Hermione sighed with joy, then gave him a warm hug. " Thank you, thank you, thank you!"  
  
" You're welcome." He replied, shyly.  
  
" How cute. If it isn't the odd couple." Malfoy sneered.  
  
" Yeah." Crabbe agreed right off, giving an uneasy giggle. Goyle looked from Crabbe to Malfoy and then realized he was supposed to laugh too and gave an uneasy chortle.  
  
" Yeah, I agree. We are a cute couple." Harry defended himself, which surprised Malfoy once again. This was Harry's method of fighting back, as mentioned before: by acting as if insults were compliments.  
  
Malfoy waved his hand in disgust at Harry and murmured: "Ah, you're no fun, Harry."  
  
Harry.  
  
He hadn't called him Potter, as he so very much liked to, especially with a significantly exaggerated sneer on his handsome face. Harry had heard a lot of girls commenting on Draco's good looks - but they immediately added how his personality smudged away whatever his physical features gave.  
  
Harry didn't really mind Draco as much as he used to, for some way or another growing a bit more mature at heart. Now he realized he might even try to attempt to make friends with the blond-haired young man.  
  
" Harry, really, it would help if you listened to what I'm saying." Hermione said, testily.  
  
" I'm sorry, Herm." He smiled at her. "Forgive me? I was thinking."  
  
" At least you didn't listen to me for a good cause." Hermione said, softly, then continued: " I was just saying how great it would be if Draco could finally learn how to sort his brains and turn somewhat decent."  
  
" Yeah." Harry nodded in agreement, then felt something cold pelt him in the back of the neck. He felt the mass of freezing ice and then held a handful of it to his face: " A snowball?"  
  
He turned and saw Fred and George Weasley, their faces shining from laughter. " Gosh, Harry, your reflexes are quick. The snowball didn't even reach you and you flinched."  
  
Hermione laughed.  
  
" Where'd you get a snowball?" Harry asked.  
  
" Its just a spell. Say 'Sphericus Precipitatius', wave your wand with a bit of a twist, and. . ." Fred sent another snowball from his wand, this time at Hermione. She wiped the snow off, still laughing.  
  
" You guys are just impossible." She finally managed to say.  
  
" I gotta hand it to you both, if there was ever a 'Most Annoying Prize'. . ." Harry couldn't help but grin.  
  
" Thanks, Harry." They imitated the way Harry responded to Draco's insults.  
  
" You're welcome." Harry replied impishly.  
  
Suddenly, they realized that yet again they had fallen behind. Harry ran to catch up, Hermione's footsteps pattering close after him. He looked at her over his shoulder, her hand holding the back of her hair down so that it didn't fly into her face, her robes rustling in the wind.  
  
" Harry! Watch where you're going, not me!" She told him, just as Harry nearly missed a collision with a first year. The first year looked at him, her eyes blue and filled with tears, and said:  
  
" Why! Harry Potter!"  
  
" I'm so sorry for running at you like that!" Harry felt very stupid as he stopped by the trembling first year. The eleven-year-old girl looked at Hermione, then back at him, and she smiled:  
  
" You go to Hogwarts, right?"  
  
" Right. How'd you get here? First years can't go to Hogsmeade." Harry asked.  
  
The girl shrugged. " I sneaked out. Nobody noticed, and I got lost."  
  
" Here, see over there? There's a girl named Parvati. She'll help you out. Professor McGonagall gave her the list of students on the trip and she'll write you in so you won't be forgotten on the way back. Alright?" Harry gave the girl an assuring grin. The girl nodded and then ran towards Parvati, two long braids spiraling as the wind carried them backwards.  
  
" The wind's sharp today. Dragon-flying weather." Hermione commented.  
  
"Dragon-flying weather?" Harry seemed intrigued.  
  
" Yup. Dragons fly the best at winds like these. It's something to do with their wings, but I really can't quite say what it is. Aerodynamics?" She got lost in thought.  
  
Harry wondered if this was the day Voldemort might go out flying his Whitescale dragon for some lost reason and do some more of his evil. Goosebumps prickled his skin and he wished he could tell Hermione what was bothering him, but he knew he was to remain true to Ron.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
It seemed like a long time in Hogsmeade, just walking and peeking into shop windows, their breaths making white clouds appear on the surface of the windows, when they stumbled upon a little café. " Are you hungry?" Harry asked Hermione. She nodded.  
  
" Good, because I'm incredibly hungry." Harry pushed the door of the café open. He was surprised to find any Hogwarts students there already. Among them was Ron and Neville, sharing his bag of candies. Ron looked up at Harry, then turned away, his eyes filled with hurt.  
  
Harry himself felt upset with the whole ordeal concerning Ron. He hadn't intentionally chosen Hermione as his partner. It was a quick reflex kind of thing, his mind simply snapping out the answer: "Yes!"  
  
Now he wasn't so sure, and yet he couldn't understand Ron quite, well, either. Ron seemed to be alright with Harry's kiss to Hermione, in fact, he wanted all the details of how it was and how it felt and what it tasted like.  
  
Then, all of a sudden, all of that evaporated like water from a pot left on the stove too long and all that was left was angry steam, which Ron seemed to show quite vividly.  
  
" Let's sit here." Hermione pointed out a little table not far off from where Ron was sitting.  
  
Harry tried not to look too upset by where they were sitting or about Ron, but his eyes kept trailing up to see if his red-haired friend would show some sign of forgiveness. None appeared on the boy's face, though.  
  
" Hello, my name's Greta and I'll be your waitress this evening." A tall woman with a long and hooked nose said. "How may I help you?"  
  
" Some butter beer, please. Two of them." Hermione told the waitress, then checked her money. " Shoot, I only have enough for one."  
  
" Oh, no you don't! I'm supposed to pay. I'm the boy." Harry said to Hermione, then handed his money to the waitress and told her: "Two butter beers."  
  
She took the money (this was a café that had you pay before dinner, not after, for many wizard kids had a way of teleporting themselves out before the tab would come), and then she said: "The butter beer will be here in a few minutes."  
  
" Thank you." Harry told Greta as she walked off, her waitress dress showing a mustard stain on her behind. Hermione immediately took her wand and zapped the stain off to let Greta avoid any humiliation.  
  
They sat there in silence, Harry looking out the window at the groups of students walking by, some of them he recognized but most he couldn't. Then, Rebecca Crick walked by the window with Malfoy trailing after her, his smug smile facing Harry, then his eyes looked back at Rebecca, who was in the middle of some wild story, her hands gesticulating madly.  
  
Just as the butter beer finally arrived, Harry realized that something wasn't right. The air seemed stiff and cold, and his scar was tingling oddly and he could feel his heart beat in it. Then, it lessened.  
  
Harry must have looked confused for Hermione asked:  
  
" Harry, what's wrong?"  
  
" Nothing." He replied, his eyes lowering, his dark eyelashes covering the fearful look in his eyes.  
  
She took a drink, and then her nostrils flared as she burst out: " Look, I know something's wrong, or something's up and you don't want to tell me. You've been hiding something from me for a while now and I didn't want to say anything until now about it. I just really want you to be honest with me. I'm honest with you."  
  
" Hermione, there's nothing. Really!" Harry realized he was torn apart between his two friends.  
  
" Well, alright then. I still feel there must be something up, but I'll let it, ah, slide." She bit her lower lip lightly, suddenly mesmerized in the bubble pattern on the top of her butter beer.  
  
Harry drank down a bit of his butter beer, too, then felt shivers go up his spine as a voice startled him from behind: "Hey, Harry! What's going on?"  
  
It was Colin, without a camera around his neck. He looked different, almost not himself, for the camera had begun to associate with Colin inside Harry's head. Colin didn't look too happy without his camera, either.  
  
" We were just drinking butter beer." Harry told Colin. "Here, sit down." He scooted over and the boy sat down beside Harry, his bright and eager eyes taking in the café and the surroundings.  
  
" Gosh, its fancy in here." He said, after a while. " Is butter beer good?" Colin added, looking hungrily at what Harry and Hermione were consuming.  
  
" It is. Here, I'll get you one. Greta?" Harry looked around for the waitress. She glanced up from the counter, a notepad in her hands, and she smiled.  
  
" I'll be right over!" She called out, then added: " Mr. Potter."  
  
Harry still got a bit of a surprise with how easily people recognized him. Hermione broke through his thoughts by asking:  
  
" When do we get to go back?"  
  
" They want us in Hogwarts by five or so, so I suppose we'll leave in a few minutes." Colin replied for Harry, for Harry obviously didn't know the answer.  
  
" I wish I could stay here longer. It's a great place, this town." Hermione sighed happily, taking another deep drink. " This place really brings out this childish glow, sort of like Christmas."  
  
" Yeah, I agree." Harry said.  
  
Ron was having a great time with Neville nearby. Both were laughing and pounding their table with their fists. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit mad.  
  
" Yes, you called for me?" Greta the waitress was standing by their table again.  
  
" Could you please bring Colin here a butter beer?" Harry asked, then handed the pay over to the waitress. She nodded and then walked off, the money jangling in her hand.  
  
" Wow, thanks Harry." Colin looked about as excited about the butter beer as most kids would be if you handed them a bag of money. Harry supposed that Colin was just a grateful, neat kind of guy. Annoying, yet at the same time alright.  
  
" I guess once we finish up we should get going. Do you still have your rings, Herm?" Harry asked.  
  
" Yup." She showed her ornate fingers to Colin. "Harry bought me some rings. Aren't they simply lovely?"  
  
" I guess." Colin replied, not anymore interested in the rings then any boy would be in jewelry at that age.  
  
" Colin, would you be getting a new camera anytime soon?" Harry asked, a bit curious, knowing that he actually just meant if Colin would be snapping pictures of him some more anytime soon.  
  
" I don't know. I haven't told anyone back home yet that my camera's gone, so my family will take quite a shock. Cameras are expensive." Colin looked down at the desk with a bit of a disappointed sigh.  
  
" I'll say." Harry suddenly turned to find the waitress (Greta) setting down a butter beer mug. The three students thanked her and then returned to drinking.  
  
They waited for Colin to finish, then went outside.  
  
Hogwarts students were all lining up outside by now, getting ready to leave, so Harry stood, squeezing by Colin, and returned the mug to the front of the café so they could clean it out and reuse it, then went outside, his companions following.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Hogwarts waited, a dark and tall castle in the distance. Soon it came closer and closer, and in the illusions of the night that wandered and crept at all who had ever taken a late evening walk, it seemed it was Hogwarts coming closer, not the students.  
  
As the mass of students crowded through the bronze arches of the door, Rebecca Crick waited ahead, helping Parvati write down the list of students going to Hogsmeade. Rebecca's eyes scanned the names with a bit of an interest, while Parvati seemed tired and worn out. The blue-eyed first year that had asked Harry for directions was standing by Parvati, clutching the older girl's wrist.  
  
Harry passed by the girls and they checked his name off, when all of a sudden his scar seemed to give a leap in his forehead. He turned to Hermione, but she wasn't walking near him anymore. She had gone off to see what a large group of other students were doing, crowded around Dumbledore.  
  
" Children! Go listen to Dumbledore! There's an emergency!" Madame McGonagall cried out.  
  
Harry shook his head in surprise, then made his way through the scattered students to see what was going on. Dumbledore's long gray beard was being twisted nervously around his finger, and his somber eyes made out Harry in the crowd, then turned to the rest of the students:  
  
" Hogwarts students! This is an emergency notification. You-Know-Who is on the rise and very powerful. There had been one murder already, of a Timothy Rower. This had been released to the public for the Ministry of Magic simply couldn't cover it any further. Timothy Rower had been found with the Avada Kedavra curse, and it appears he was in his room flipping through manuscripts on English Whitescales." Dumbledore raised his voice to a shout as a clamor arose.  
  
" Muggles are reporting, recently, to have seen a white dragon in the sky. Everyone is working overboard trying to erase memories. If you yourself sight something, report it to me immediately. This could help track You-Know-Who. Any clues can be a great help." Dumbledore then looked at Harry again, and said: " Harry, I'd like to see you in the office, if you do not mind. In about an hour?"  
  
" Alright." Harry said, cold fingers of fright wrapping around him.  
  
Then, the students dispersed, leaving Harry standing there, dazzled. Dumbledore looked extremely upset, and if someone as powerful as that was worried, then Harry most certainly was worried, as well.  
  
Ron was standing nearby, entertaining Lavender and Parvati with a joke:  
  
" Man, can you imagine? Muggles complain if a bird poops on their car. Imagine a dragon! There wouldn't be a car!" Ron laughed rather in a fake way, trying to cheer the girls up despite how he didn't truly feel too happy. Harry by now knew how to tell Ron's feelings from his face.  
  
Harry turned to walk over to Hermione. She was having a conversation with Rebecca Crick, and both didn't seem to happy with each other.  
  
Harry caught the words of the conversation from far off already:  
  
" You say that you have a book on English Whitescales? Can I see it?"  
  
Rebecca turned pale. " Vhat? I don't have one!"  
  
" I heard you saying it to Draco." Hermione countered.  
  
" Vell, I lied." Rebecca said.  
  
" You're lying right now! I need to see the book, just for a few minutes. I only want to look up one thing. I promise I'll give it back unharmed." Hermione wailed desperately.  
  
" Herm, let's go." Harry told her, seeing that Rebecca was unbending at her will and wouldn't allow Hermione to take her book for all its worth.  
  
" Yes, vhy don't you go?" Rebecca said in agreement.  
  
" Maybe I will." Hermione stormed off, dragging Harry along. "Come on, Harry, we're gonna go straight to the library and look up an infinity of books that even mention English Whitescales."  
  
" As long as infinity lasts under an hour . . . I have a meeting with Dumbledore." Harry grinned as she pulled him into the library and then raced through the shelves. Harry asked: " Don't you think you're taking this all too far? I mean, good for you that you're trying to keep on top, but I'm sure the Ministry has everything taken care of."  
  
" No, they don't." She pulled a dusty white book down and then opened it. " Harry, I just have one thing to ask you. Promise me you'll notify me if you know anything new on English Whitescales. Trust me, I can help with this case. I have a lead but I need support before I can say it."  
  
Harry didn't know if he should make this promise. It wouldn't be quite fair to Ron or to Hermione, putting a promise over another one.  
  
" Well?" Hermione looked up from the book. " Promise?"  
  
Harry had no way out. If he didn't promise, Hermione would be mad and suspect him for hiding things and then he wouldn't have both his close friends. If he did promise, he wouldn't be keeping it since he couldn't say Ron's secret.  
  
" I promise." Harry said, quietly.  
  
" Good." Hermione slammed a book down on the table. A thin mist of dust flew from the crusty old spine. " Now, it says here that English Whitescales have a way of deceiving people. IF one possesses the scale, they can transform to another form in order to go by undetected. Works great for criminals like You-Know-Who, right?"  
  
" Right." Harry agreed.  
  
" But there must be more reason to it. You-Know-Who probably knows spells which would do the same job for him, and yet he took papers on English Whitescales. From what I know, he might have somehow gotten one." Hermione looked puzzled. " But how?"  
  
Harry swallowed hard. " Maybe he made one by magic."  
  
" You can't make dragons." Hermione protested. " Listen, Ron has a brother, Charlie, in the dragon business. If Charlie recovered from his illness, would you be able to speak with Ron about it? Perhaps he'd picked a thing or two up about these animals."  
  
" I'll try." Harry tried to sound optimistic.  
  
" Now, you can go find Ron and speak with him. I have important research to do." Hermione said, and then added: "Unless you want to flip through books, too."  
  
" I'd rather talk to Ron." Harry said.  
  
" I knew it." Hermione smiled as she looked away, her eyes scanning the words on the page.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry found Ron in the common room playing a little game of chess against Neville. Neville was losing drastically.  
  
" Hey, Ron. Hi, Neville." Harry said, nervously.  
  
Ron looked up at Harry and barely gave a nod in acknowledgement while Neville grinned and replied: "Hey, Harry!"  
  
" So. . . chess." Harry sat down to look at the game the two boys were actively playing. " Nice move, Ron." Harry added, as Ron knocked over one of Neville's bishops with the queen.  
  
" Mmf." Ron grumbled out.  
  
" Ron, can we talk? Neville, would you let me talk to Ron in private? Much appreciated." Harry watched Neville get up and leave rather willingly, knowing he'd lose quite badly if he didn't withdraw from the game.  
  
" Ron, listen. I'm sorry that Hermione was my partner on the trip, not you." Harry began.  
  
" It's alright." Ron replied. " I'm not mad at all."  
  
" You aren't?" Harry was puzzled.  
  
" Not really. I'm just. . . I guess I'm jealous, all right? I'd love to have someone like Hermione. Lavender's alright, but she doesn't care too much about me."  
  
" Oh." Harry moved one of the chess pieces for Neville so that Neville had a chance of avoiding Ron's knight. Then, he continued: "In that case, I hope you find someone."  
  
" Yeah." Ron shrugged.  
  
" I have a question, by the way. Is there anything new with Charlie? Any new developments, perhaps any leads?" Harry asked.  
  
" Not that I know of. Except one." Ron leaned forwards: "That scar, shaped like the dark mark, is bleeding."  
  
" Bleeding?" Harry repeated, disbelieving.  
  
" That's right. And the blood's BLACK." Ron grimaced.  
  
" That's disgusting! Why is it doing that?"  
  
" I don't know. Charlie's really freaked out. They bandaged the area up to keep him from losing blood but it's pretty bad." Ron said.  
  
" What else?" Harry asked, after a while passed.  
  
" Charlie isn't acting like himself. He's jittery and sometimes he sleepwalks in the night and tries to get outside. The Ministry of Magic is afraid that Voldemort's power is beckoning him to join his followers now that he's beginning another uprising."  
  
" This is all getting out of hand."  
  
" I don't know anything else, though, just those facts. My mother sent me a letter about it and she sort of had me read between the lines to figure things out, because she didn't want anyone else to find these things out." Ron leaned back in his chair and then moved a pawn. "Why do you need to know?" Ron added.  
  
" No big reason. I'm just concerned." Harry couldn't tell Ron that Hermione needed to know, and Harry wouldn't tell Hermione about what Ron said. Harry was going to try to solve things himself, if he had to.  
  
" I hope they find You-Know-Who fast." Ron commented.  
  
" They will." Harry assured him. " Well, I should go. I have to see Dumbledore."  
  
" Really? What for?" Ron asked.  
  
" I'm not sure myself. I think that he might have something important to say, he looked real serious when he told me to come see him." Harry said, then left the common room, feeling dazzled and confused with all the recent events.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry knocked on to the room in which Dumbledore spent most of his time. Dumbledore's voice replied:  
  
" Who is it?"  
  
" It's me, Harry."  
  
" Ah, yes. Come in, Harry." Dumbledore replied, and then looked up from a stack of papers to see Harry timidly slip inside and then sit down onto a chair in the corner of the room.  
  
" I'd like to know the reason for my visit." Harry said, after exchanging a long glance with Dumbledore.  
  
" Hmm." Dumbledore seemed to think hard. "Harry, I have unfortunate news. Hopefully, these news will turn out to be untrue. But nevertheless, you need to hear it."  
  
" What is it?" Harry asked, now completely worried.  
  
" I'm getting there." Dumbledore tried to smile, then gently ran his hand over his snow-white beard and added: " It seems an owl was found, not far from here, by a wizard traveling around. A trader, per say."  
  
Harry felt his stomach drop. It couldn't be!  
  
" The owl was horribly mangled, and seemed to have the shreds of a letter left in its poor talons. The traveler had never seen such an awful sight." Dumbledore sighed. " The owl was white, Harry."  
  
Harry asked: " Hedgwig! But why?"  
  
" It might not be Hedgwig. It was too. . . distorted. . . to tell." Dumbledore searched for the right word. " Someone, or something, had brought it down to track where it was going. The owl wouldn't cooperate, obviously, and so. . ." Dumbledore stopped. "Harry, I'm sorry. I most certainly hope that this is a mistake, and that the owl they found wasn't Hedgwig."  
  
" Well, I hope so too!" Harry cried out, tears stinging his eyes. "Where is the owl? Maybe I can identify it."  
  
" I'm afraid the man cremated it and scattered its ashes already, for it was the only proper way to treat a deceased servant of the wizard world. I didn't want you to see it, anyhow, for it would have been devastating for you." Dumbledore explained.  
  
" No! So you mean. . . IF it was Hedgwig, then her poor ashes are just being blown about outside now?"  
  
" I'm afraid so."  
  
" No." Harry whispered the world. " It can't be."  
  
" Do you know where the letter might have been heading, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
" Yes." Harry lowered his voice. " Sirius Black."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry walked to his room in the dark of Hogwarts, his mind flowing with images of the beautiful white owl of his, Hedgwig. It had to be a mistake. Hedgwig was fine, over with his godfather. Because if not, then Sirius Black's location could be traced now, for its quite a simple spell put on an owl to determine the location it was going to. A master wizard could easily then find the source of a letter, just through an owl.  
  
If it were true, then Harry had both given away the location of his godfather and had literally caused the death of his owl.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
In the light of the moon, a black-haired boy sat writing something. His quill worked furiously across a scrap of paper, the light of his green eyes flashing with tears.  
  
Then, once the writing was done, the boy opened the window in front of him, quietly, not letting the sleeping boys in the room hear, and let the scrap of paper float out.  
  
It floated across the deserted Quidditch field and then flattened itself on an old fence post. The dry rattle of leaves played a soulful serenade as the words of the letter were formed:  
  
When you died there were no flowers,  
  
there was no handsome oak casket.  
  
Nobody there was crying  
  
As flames swallowed you up.  
  
And your ashes were finally discarded  
  
As if they were petty dust.  
  
Nobody bothered to bury  
  
A poor little owl like you!  
  
Wherever your ashes settled,  
  
Was it in litter or flowers?  
  
There is no tombstone to mark it  
  
No grave to put flowers on...  
  
Nobody is weeping over your ashes  
  
There's probably no one who cares  
  
That this one bit of dirt over there  
  
Is the silent grave of my friend.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Author's Note:  
  
I tried to make it sad. Poetry and grammar are my Achilles' heel, though, so forgive. ^_^ Those who are outraged, remember that it might not have been Hedgwig. My imagination will have to decide what happens next, if I want it to be Hedgwig or not.  
  
I got the name of the chapter from the poem, the first line. 


	7. THe Owlery

1 Chapter 7  
  
THE OWLERY  
  
  
  
Harry found himself drawing a little owl with the tip of his quill on the Potions desk when Snape called on him: " Harry Potter!"  
  
" Yes, sir?" Harry looked up, his bloodshot eyes out of focus form a night of very little sleep and many worries.  
  
" Today I want you to be the special volunteer." Snape said. "You've pulled out nicely with the Liquefier spell." Snape then motioned with his finger to the front of the class. "Come here, Harry."  
  
Harry sighed and stood up, his eyes meeting with Hermione's as he walked towards Snape. She had a look of sympathy for him.  
  
The classroom fell in a hush as Snape handed Harry a potion. "I'm sure you all remember that the Liquefier turns one into liquid form. This one is called Solidifier. What do you think this might do?"  
  
" Nothing. Harry's already solid - his head's full of rocks, as a matter of fact." Goyle laughed. " Malfoy taught me that joke a month ago."  
  
Malfoy kicked Goyle and hissed: " Harry's not supposed to know!"  
  
" Oh." Goyle looked down at the desk stupidly.  
  
" The potion, class, will turn him into stone." Snape hissed. "Now, the Whilltilly's bone marrow is also used in this potion, but along with it you need a few more things. . ." Snape continued on and on, Harry standing to his left hand side, dozing off on his feet.  
  
" Harry!" Snape suddenly burst out.  
  
" Mmm?" Harry's eyes opened to see the blazing-mad professor.  
  
" Drink the potion." Snape handed Harry the potion. Snape was still in a bad mood, though maybe the better phrase would be 'back to his old self'. Perhaps the elated joy of being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher wore off.  
  
Harry took the test tube and then didn't think twice as he swallowed the contents. They rolled lazily into his stomach. Everyone watched, waited, but nothing happened to him. Harry stood there, same as always, his eyes searching the puzzled looks of his classmates for an answer to the failure of the spell.  
  
" Interesting." Snape double-checked the list of ingredients. "I've put everything in. . ."  
  
Hermione raised her hand. Snape avoided her and kept reading from the list of ingredients: " Whilltilly bone marrow. . . check. Vinegar. . . check." Snape's voice was droned out as Peeves the Poltergeist soared through the room, laughing happily. "Whee! I slipped some Potion-Immunity into your vinegar, Professor." Peeves was now hanging midair, one leg halfway through the wall. The students in the other classroom must by now be staring in puzzlement at a leg extending from their eastern wall.  
  
" Peeves!" Professor Snape couldn't have possibly been angrier. "Get out of my sight!"  
  
Peeves shook his head stubbornly. "See, Harry? Snape was planning for a while to have you be his guinea pig. Foiled his plans, I did." Peeves pulled his leg from the wall and then soared right through Snape. Snape's body froze at the strange feeling of ghost passing through him.  
  
" Get out!" Snape shouted.  
  
" Hold your horses, Snapey." Peeves then floated to Neville and hissed in his ear: " Neville, I saw Draco put peanut butter into your house slippers. Don't get too comfy when you go back to your common room. Hint, hint."  
  
At that, Draco immediately began a protest.  
  
" Peeves!" Snape was now speaking in a wavering voice, a vein throbbing in his forehead. " You. . . get. . . out. . . of. . . this. . . classroom. . . this. . . very. . . second."  
  
" Fine." Peeves soared upwards through the ceiling, then put his head through, upside-down, and added: " There was the good ghost deed of the day. Now I can continue with my regular mischief."  
  
" Like that wasn't mischief?" Harry murmured.  
  
" You! Drink another potion!" Snape ordered. "This one!"  
  
" Professor! I wouldn't advise drinking two potions so closely together! It could positively. . ." Hermione had shot to her feet and spoken without being called at. Snape didn't let her finish. He barked at Harry:  
  
" Drink!"  
  
Harry took the second test tube. This time, his body seemed to react. A thousand watts of electricity flew through his body and a feeling of numbness crossed him. But, the potions didn't mix together to do something horrible. Instead, the second canceled the first out and Harry succesfully became a little statue.  
  
He had never felt so perfectly all right. All the pain he felt (his head had hurt before, but now being stone erased all previous pain) was gone.  
  
" Now, to transform him back, class, does anyone know what to do?" Snape asked.  
  
Hermione didn't even bother raising her hand this time. She simply closed her eyes and put her head down quietly on the table, her forehead flat on her Potions book.  
  
Neville raised his hand.  
  
" Neville?" Snape asked, surprised.  
  
" You have to pour the Liquefier potion over the stone, sir, so that the stone will dissolve, but the Liquefier won't be powerful enough to. . ."  
  
" Enough!" Snape was now angry again because Neville had been correct. His hand reached for the Liquefier potion and then gingerly poured it over Harry-the-statue. Harry's body loosened immediately, and he was back in his seat just as the class ended.  
  
" I was so worried! I thought that consuming two potions so close together would have killed you. It happened before." Hermione caught up with Harry in the hall. Ron walked on his other side, though in a bit of a silence. Ron wasn't avoiding Harry anymore but he wasn't exactly back to Harry's best of friends either.  
  
" I thought so, too." Harry agreed.  
  
" Palm Reading's next, Harry." Ron reminded. " I'll die laughing if Professor Trelawney predicts more misfortune for you."  
  
" I know." Harry grinned, then suddenly realized: " She did see misfortune, and you know what happened to Hedgwig. . ."  
  
" Remember that it could have not been Hedgwig." Hermione reminded.  
  
" Then why isn't she back yet?" Harry questioned.  
  
" Maybe the answer will come some other time. It's not like all the mysteries will be solved at the snap of a finger." Hermione spoke wisely.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry had gone up to his common room for lunch, a feeling deep inside him more or less telling him to. The room was cold, frightening. Harry stepped up to the fireplace, and then all of a sudden, the fireplace glowed an eerie green.  
  
" Ah!" Harry took a step backwards.  
  
" Harry?" The green mass in the fireplace suddenly let out the form of Sirius Black, his hair an untidy mess on his head. Sirius cleared his throat, looked down at the awful mess of soot at his feet, and said: " Oh, sorry about that. Floo powder, you know."  
  
" Sirius!" Harry gasped. " Please tell me Hedgwig gave you the letter!"  
  
" I'm sorry, Harry, but I didn't get any letter." Sirius smoothed out the wrinkled front of his clothing. " I did come here as fast as I could, though, since it seems that someone's been desperately trying to track me. In fact, my finest white owl was smashed to smithereens by one of my many trackers. I've sent you a letter, you know."  
  
" So that wasn't Hedgwig that got. . . killed?" Harry felt relief flood him. " But then they could still trace the letter back to you by spell, right?"  
  
" Maybe." Sirius bent over to tie his boot. " All I can say is, I'm confused."  
  
" So am I. I sent you a letter with Hedgwig and she still didn't come back. You sent me a letter around the same time and your owl was killed, am I right? How did you find out?" Harry wanted to know.  
  
" I put a tracking device on it. Those Muggles have some neat gadgets, you know." Sirius grinned, then grew serious: "I know this, though: I need to move someplace far. Perhaps we might have to cut back with correspondence for the year? I really don't know." He straightened up, his boots tied.  
  
" I hope Hedgwig is alright, then. I wonder where she went, if it wasn't her that got killed." Harry said, softly. " Where are you going to go?"  
  
" Perhaps I'll try South America. Brazil looks nice." Sirius sighed. " I thought I should say goodbye. For the while, at least. It seems a lot of people are going to extremes lately to find me, perhaps they think I'm helping You-Know-Who."  
  
" He killed someone, did you hear about it?" Harry asked.  
  
" I sure did. And I'm warning you, Harry, you had better try to stay away from anything suspicious, keep out of the spotlight, etc."  
  
" I know. I heard it a million times already." Harry's voice trembled. " There's been so much going on. Hermione keeps getting strange threat letters and then Hedgwig is gone, you're getting tracked by people now more then ever since they think you have to do with the whole You-Know- Who uprising."  
  
" Harry, just please take care of yourself." Sirius put his hand on the younger boy's shoulder. " Please."  
  
" I will." Harry gave a weak nod.  
  
" Good. Well, I'll be going, then. . ." Sirius turned to the fireplace. " You really ought to clean this place out. It's discouraging to travel through something like this."  
  
Harry smiled. " Goodbye."  
  
" See ya, Harry. I'll be back sooner or later." His godfather's eyes sparkled. " Oh, if you're wondering how I knew when to come - to catch you here alone - you should read this." He threw a little paper toward Harry.  
  
Then, Sirius sprinkled some Floo Powder into the fireplace and was gone, as suddenly as he'd come. Harry felt his stomach tumble as he read the paper:  
  
Harry, if you ever need to see  
  
what I'm up to, if you're just  
  
plain curious for whatever  
  
reason, or if you might want to  
  
check up on someone else other  
  
then me, then simply think  
  
hard of the person and say the  
  
spell: "Visibilus Memorificus,  
  
Humanis Appariticus." It sounds  
  
strange, I know, but if you do then  
  
you will immediately get the image  
  
of the person you want to see. It  
  
might come in use to be able to  
  
know where others are without  
  
being there yourself. Maybe you'll  
  
figure out some more uses for  
  
it other then just to check up on  
  
people.  
  
Sirius.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry stopped. Something wasn't right. He had just been in the middle of dressing in the morning the next day, and yet, it felt as if he should be occupied with something else. He glanced out the window as a flock of owls rushed to deliver their letters and he wondered where Hedgwig could be.  
  
His eyes closed in wonder at how warm it felt in the common room. Perhaps Dumbledore put a nice heating spell on the building? He hoped this was so, because he preferred the newfound warmth to anything else the school had to offer.  
  
Neville had left his slippers out in the middle of the common room again and Harry found himself tripping on them as he hastily finished buttoning his white shirt. The collar was uneven, he noted that right off, and when he tried to fix it his fingers dipped into something.  
  
He held his hand up before his face and saw the cause of the uneven collar: a green slimy goo was spread across his shirt. "Those Weasley twins!" He murmured, and then wiped the green goo from his fingers onto a white tissue he kept in his pants pocket for emergencies like this.  
  
His forehead creased as he raised his eyebrows in thought. Maybe the twins would help him devise a nice little concoction that would help him find his owl?  
  
Just then he got an idea. Maybe he could use the spell Sirius had given him and see where Hedgwig was! Yet, the more he thought about it, the less sense Sirius's spell made.  
  
" I could try it." He finally said to himself, decisively, and took out the little note paper from his godfather and read the spell softly to himself, thinking of Hedgwig with all the intensity he could muster: "Visibilus Memorificus, Humanis Appariticus!"  
  
He waited, his eyes closed, but nothing happened. He read the note again to see if he did something wrong, and noted that Sirius had said it was to get an image of a PERSON, not an animal. This was a disappointing blow to Harry.  
  
" Harry, it's a Sunday. How long are you going to take dressing?" Ron's head peeked into the common room from the outside hallway.  
  
" Sunday!" Harry didn't know this.  
  
" You've been pretty dazed for the last few days, Harry. Shouldn't you go see Madame Pomfrey or something? She might give you some medicine." Ron suggested.  
  
" I miss my owl." Harry said.  
  
" Well, sure you do. But maybe she's alright. Why don't we go check the owlery?" Ron asked.  
  
" Will she be there?" Harry wondered.  
  
" Who knows. Hedgwig is just an animal, maybe she dropped the letter and is too ashamed to reveal herself again, so she's hidden in the owlery." Ron's suggestion made sense to Harry.  
  
" Let's go see the owlery, then." Harry grinned.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry and Ron's eyes took in the mighty inside of the owlery tower. It was dusty and musty inside and the floor was covered with owl waste. Hundreds of owls dozed off, some were hooting in low voices through their sleep.  
  
Hermione's owl, Sunny, sat sleepily on a little wooden post, her round yellow eyes blinking open and shut. Harry petted the owl and then looked upwards to see if his own was anywhere near.  
  
From high above came a screech as a few new owls flew into the room, after delivering letters. The owls began to move around, rearranging.  
  
" There! Isn't that her?" Ron pointed with his finger at a white little creature, huddled between two tall black ones, both looking alert and poised.  
  
Harry's eyes widened. " Hedgwig!"  
  
The little white owl's eyes shot open and the yellow orbs fixed on its owner. Then, the owl flew down onto his outstretched hand.  
  
" Oh! You're alright!" Harry rubbed the little creature's head, and added: " Where were you?"  
  
The owl didn't reply, of course, but it lifted its wings. One of them was punctured. " My! Someone's thrown something at you!" Harry cried out, hugging the little creature, with one hand holding it's wing out, examining it.  
  
Ron asked: " Maybe it's someone was trying to shoot it down, like how Sirius's owl was taken down."  
  
Harry had told Ron everything about Sirius, from the smallest details of their conversation to his own opinions. " I think so, too. Someone must really want to find my godfather, if he's targeting owls to trace him."  
  
" I'd say." Ron pushed his hands in his pockets. " But how would anyone know which owl is going to who?"  
  
" I don't know that. Perhaps someone did that spell on Hedgwig, like I said, to track where the letter was going and then when Sirius replied they killed his owl to keep me from getting the reply, and to trace Sirius directly." Harry said this in a rush, then paused, puzzled. " But why on Earth would they do that is beyond me!"  
  
" We should talk about this somewhere else. This owlery SMELLS." Ron grimaced. He was right, it did smell.  
  
Just then, someone else stepped into the owlery. It was Draco, followed by Rebecca. " I do vonder vhat Harry's owl looks like." Rebecca was saying to Draco.  
  
" Why do you wanna know that?" Draco replied.  
  
Harry backed away into the dark corner of the owlery, where the brickwork was thicker and messier for no window was present to lighten it. His back was pressed to the wall, his teeth were digging into his tongue to keep his breath quiet, and his left arm was pinning Ron back with him.  
  
" I hear it's vhite, and I vanted to know exactly so I don't mistaken someone else's for his." Rebecca said, her voice a murmur.  
  
" I don't get it, though. So what if you mistaken someone else's owl for. . ." Draco was replying, when Rebecca shouted:  
  
" I just do, okay?"  
  
Draco frowned. " You're crazy, sometimes."  
  
" I just vant to see his owl. Then ve can go." Rebecca crossed her arms and stood, waiting for Draco to point out Hedgwig. Of course, Harry was holding his owl, so Draco wouldn't find it.  
  
" It's not here!" Draco said, after a while of searching. " I can see his best friend's owl, though."  
  
" I don't care for his friend's owl! I vant to see Harry's owl." Rebecca yelled. A few owls stirred.  
  
" Keep it down. We don't want someone to hear us." Draco told her.  
  
" You keep it down!" She hissed in frustration.  
  
" Why do I bother?" Draco rolled his eyes and said under his breath as he walked by Harry (Harry had by now sunk to his knees on the dirty floor so he wouldn't be eye-level with Draco). Harry had also pulled down Ron.  
  
" It isn't here?" Rebecca asked.  
  
" No." Draco said, in answer.  
  
" Then I did get it!" Rebecca grinned. " Are you sure it vas a vhite owl?"  
  
" Yes!" Draco said.  
  
" Can I put you in on a secret, Draco?" Rebecca walked up to him, seductively. He moved away from her and asked, quietly:  
  
" What?"  
  
" I killed Harry's owl, then." She poked him in the chest. "Thanks to your pinpoints."  
  
" Why would you do that?" Draco's eyes widened in horror.  
  
'It wasn't my owl, it was Sirius's new white one', Harry thought to himself.  
  
" To keep Harry frightened. Vhy, I'm the new captain for Hufflepuff, am I not? I vant to keep him scared, vorried that someone will attack him. In the meantime, I vill be helping my team vin! Gryffindor is vorthless vithout him." Rebecca explained. " And if you tell any other soul about this, I can make it look like you did it."  
  
" I won't tell." Draco said, softly.  
  
" Good." Rebecca turned from him, her black boots with golden buttons jangling on the floor as she did so. " You better keep your vord, or you vill be sorry. If I get in trouble for it, then I vill know you told. And I'll KILL you."  
  
The words came out so shocking, so threatening, that even Draco shuddered. " You wouldn't." He said.  
  
" Vould I?" She said, and then slammed the owlery door behind her as she walked out.  
  
Draco remained standing there, shaking, then he looked around the see if Harry's owl really wasn't there. " Man. . . I can't believe I ever got involved with her." Draco finally said, to himself, and left the owlery as well.  
  
Once they were alone, Harry drew his teeth from his tongue and let out a long, frightened breath.  
  
" Man, Harry, Rebecca must really want Hufflepuff to win." Ron said, thoughtfully.  
  
" And the thing is, we can't tell on her or she'll kill Draco." Harry sighed.  
  
" So? We have to tell on her. You couldn't possibly feel safe having a loony like her running around the school!" Ron said this with a voice that showed he definitely didn't care about Draco's welfare.  
  
" We'll have to deal with it on our own for now. All I know is that I have to keep being captain then. I'll be letting her win if I let her intimidate me." Harry pushed his fists into his pockets, which caused Hedgwig to fly up and sit on a wooden little rail.  
  
" Let's take Hedgwig to Madame Pomfrey for now. And I gotta tell you, Harry, if I were you I'd be scared out of my mind by now." Ron told him. " Rebecca seems the kind of person that wouldn't just let something to easily." 


	8. Moaning Myrtle Moans out a Tale + A New ...

1 A/N: This story consists of characters that are not mine, of events mentioned that I didn't make up, and I'm only writing this for my own fun, and I'm not getting any pay for it. So there.  
  
2  
  
3 Chapter 8  
  
4 Moaning Myrtle Moans Out a Tale  
  
A week passed, uneventful, other then another Quidditch game, this time it was Ravenclaw against Gryffindor and Harry's team won, just by a few points. Harry hadn't caught the Snitch in this game, which was all right with the team though. Harry couldn't concentrate through the entire game, after all. His eyes kept trailing into the stands, where Rebecca was watching him intently, probably wishing with her whole entire heart to have Harry lose. Harry noticed that Draco was sitting a good foot or so apart from Rebecca, but she kept trying to hold his hand. Harry couldn't understand how Draco could still want to go out with Rebecca, under these circumstances.  
  
After the game had ended, Harry landed his Firebolt to find Hermione racing into the field, her hands spread wide, ready for a hug. " Oh, Harry, that was a great game!" She threw herself at his neck, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back.  
  
" Thanks." He said into her hair, then looked up to find Draco and Rebecca approaching him as well. His fists tightened with a natural anger and he looked into Rebecca's cold eyes with a fear.  
  
Rebecca looked at Hermione and then at Harry, saying: "Hello, Harry, Hermione."  
  
Hermione replied: " Hello." She said it stiffly, too, since Harry filled her in on Rebecca's speech with Draco in the owlery.  
  
" I thought I'd tell you I vas nominated for Head Girl. My grades are second in this school to yours, if looking at marks." Rebecca told Hermione.  
  
" Second?" Hermione was surprised. " Do you wish to be first?"  
  
" Of course. Vho doesn't?" Rebecca laughed lightly, though Harry could see something malevolent in her laugh.  
  
Harry remembered the latest anonymous note to Hermione, one that had said something about not being too smart. He wondered if the jealous Rebecca wrote it?  
  
Harry loosened his hug on Hermione, she stepped aside to ask Rebecca: " Did you come here just to say that?"  
  
" Yes. And also, congratulations, Harry." Rebecca looked at Harry closely, her eyes growing into slits.  
  
The Gryffindor team was going back into the building, their robes muddy and dusty. Fred and George raced up to Harry and grabbed him, saying: "Hey, captain!"  
  
Harry whirled around to face them and said, accusingly: "Would you guys know of any particular green goo that I found under the collar of my shirt?"  
  
" Maybe you sneezed too hard." Fred suggested, and George bashed him upside the head.  
  
" Aw, Harry, it was us. Sorry. Shake?" George stuck out his hand in a peace offering.  
  
Harry took his hand and immediately recoiled, finding his hand smeared with more green goop. " Ew! Where do you guys get this stuff? Do you carry it with yourselves all the time or something?" Harry exclaimed.  
  
" Sure. We find suckers everywhere." Fred shrugged.  
  
" How juvenile." Rebecca remarked. "Right, Draco?" Draco was already walking away, a guilty and upset look on his face. Draco had been avoiding Harry for the whole week.  
  
Draco nodded awkwardly and then stopped, now stuck having to wait for Rebecca. He didn't look too happy with her anymore.  
  
Harry, meanwhile, had just said goodbye to Fred and George (George had come up with an idea to add Tongue-Swelling powder to someone's dinner), and he turned to Hermione: "Shouldn't we go to dinner, too?"  
  
" If you feel that way." Hermione grinned at him.  
  
Rebecca was forgotten by both of them, and she finally turned and walked away, frustrated, quite visibly, with the fact that she didn't seem to bother Harry or Hermione at all.  
  
Draco followed her obediently, though he seemed sick of her, as well.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Draco was still on Harry's mind as he sat down with Hermione to eat dinner. The plates, of course, loaded themselves with food right off and Hermione didn't seem to want to eat anything.  
  
" Herm, why aren't you eating?" Nick asked from across the table, his legs swinging above the ground since he was still a first-year, after all.  
  
" I'm not hungry." She replied.  
  
Harry looked at her with a sudden interest. Hermione always ate, even when she was sick, saying that missing meals wasn't good for you. Only rarely would she not eat (these times would be when she was protesting something, or if she was throwing up).  
  
" You should eat. It smells so good." Harry tempted her.  
  
" No thanks." She replied.  
  
Just then, she looked up at Draco. Rebecca was talking to him and they seemed to be fighting. " Look, Harry!" she told him. Harry looked up just as Draco was saying:  
  
" I don't want to see you anymore, alright?"  
  
" Vhy?" Rebecca looked shocked.  
  
" You're messed up! Completely crazy!" Draco yelled, and then turned from her, fuming. " Just go away."  
  
Rebecca's eyebrows raised, her lip twitching in anger, but she said no more. Hermione whispered into Harry's ear, just so he could hear over the surprised clamor in the room: " I knew Draco would smart up. She's really freaky, I can agree on that."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
" It's for the better."  
  
Draco left the room, and Rebecca went to sit by Cho. Cho, who didn't realize much at all, hugged Rebecca and was saying something about Draco being a horrible jerk, and how Draco kept beating up Harry all the time and that Rebecca should have never gotten involved with him.  
  
Harry wished he could warn Cho somehow to stay away from Rebecca, as well, but he didn't know how. He was still bashful around her, even if he didn't like her anymore.  
  
Hermione was talking to Nearly-Headless Nick now, who was complaining about how Peeves had been teasing Moaning Myrtle again.  
  
" Poor Myrtle!" Hermione was saying, and she turned to Harry: "We have to go talk with her! Nick says she's been crying and howling nonstop and if she keeps it up nobody in Hogwarts will be able to sleep tonight."  
  
Neville suggested to Harry from Harry's left-hand side: " Bring Myrtle something to cheer her up, maybe flowers. She always liked you a bit more then everyone else."  
  
Harry nodded, but said to Neville: " She'll just think I'm trying to pity her and she'll just go into another rant." He took Hermione's elbow, to show that they should both go together, and then explained: " I'll go see her right now. I've always felt sorry for the poor thing."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry stepped into the girl's bathroom, with the dilapidated stalls and leaking sink, and he looked around. He could hear the low wail from the stall that Moaning Myrtle occupied, and he stopped in front of it, knocking lightly.  
  
" Someone's in here. So go away!" Myrtle moaned out.  
  
" It's Harry. And Hermione's with me. Remember us?"  
  
" How could I not? I bet you were the ones that called me pug-ugly!" She sobbed harder.  
  
" Nobody called you anything, Myrtle. Peeves was only teasing." Harry told her, compassion stringing in his voice.  
  
The door opened and Myrtle's bluish, see-through body and tear- streaked face appeared to the two students. " Really?" She asked, her moans dying out to a low gasp.  
  
" Yes." Hermione said. " You should really stop being so down. It's no fun, listening to your moans all day."  
  
" See? Everyone hates me!" Myrtle began to cry again, this time with the force of a hurricane. Her whole entire ghost body rattled with her sobs.  
  
" Nobody hates you." Harry assured her. " Trust me."  
  
" Trust you? You hate me too!" Myrtle pointed at Harry accusingly. " Everyone hates me! Don't lie, I know you all do! I bet you can't wait to leave Hogwarts so then you can forget about me!"  
  
" I don't hate you. But it's hard for me to like you, with the way you carry on." Harry told her.  
  
" So you don't like me, then!" Myrtle looked up at him.  
  
" No, I do like you! I mean, well, it's hard to, but. . . ah." Harry stopped. He was at loss of words. Myrtle had pushed him into a rut and he didn't know how to talk himself out of it.  
  
" I knew you hated me." Myrtle leaned her head onto the stall's side wall but she felt her forehead go through it. Her eyes filled with more tears and she jerked back, her eyes letting loose even more tears.  
  
" Myrtle, listen." Harry approached her. " We like you, you're just annoying everyone with how you cry! If you stop crying like this, then maybe a lot of people will like you."  
  
" Prove it!" She cried out.  
  
" Then step out of that stall and start walking around the school. Smile and say hi to people. Then they'll like you." Hermione suggested.  
  
" Like you're Miss Popularity!" Myrtle began to cry again, and Hermione suddenly looked down, too.  
  
" Look, Myrtle, I think you should stop crying, too. A little less tears and more smiles makes people like you." Harry told Myrtle, who was now sobbing twice as hard.  
  
" Do you think so? Are you just saying that to be nice? Yeah, I bet you are. Always nice, nice Harry Potter." Myrtle hung her head, tears streaming down the sides of her face.  
  
" You'll keep everyone up if you keep ranting!" Hermione lost her patience.  
  
" See? You do hate me!" Myrtle let out another wail, from deep in her throat, her tearful eyes blinking shut to let a wave of tears out again.  
  
" No, I don't!" Hermione groaned. " Harry, say something."  
  
" I'm trying to!" He replied, and then thought hard. Finally, he said, more of a suggestion: " Tell me why you're crying all the time, Myrtle. I really don't understand. You couldn't possibly cry from the stupid things you make up?"  
  
" Well, no. . ." She sighed. " Harry, it's not like you care."  
  
" I do care. I should, rightfully, care about this. I mean, you cry so much that it's hard to ignore this all." Harry adjusted his glasses, then continued: " So, tell me what's troubling you."  
  
" Everything!" She burst out, then covered her face with her hands, sobbing hysterically again.  
  
" What's everything?" Harry asked, gently.  
  
" Well, Peeves came in today. He told me that he heard a few kids laughing about me." Myrtle's tears were still flowing from her eyes, but she wasn't crying hard enough to prevent her from pouring out her complaint- filled story. " He said that lots of children can't stop speaking about how annoying I am!"  
  
" That's not true. We don't mention you a lot at all in our conversations." Harry said.  
  
" So instead of laughing at me, you choose to ignore me?" Myrtle began to sob again.  
  
" Agh!" Hermione grumbled, throwing her hands up in the air. "I can't stand this sort of groveling. Let's get out of here."  
  
" Wait." Harry knelt down beside Myrtle and then asked, his voice taught with impatience: " Myrtle, what Peeves said was a lie. He likes making these sorts of things up."  
  
" Peeves said it with reassurance, though. And he gave me a few names, too." Myrtle let out a low, slow wail. " Names like Draco and Rebecca."  
  
" They were talking about you?" Harry asked, in disbelief. Draco and Rebecca seemed to have better things to do with their time.  
  
" Yes! They were speaking of me!" She wiped at her ghost tears. " They didn't mention me by NAME, but I knew they meant me."  
  
" Did you, now?" Harry's eyebrows raised ever-so-slightly. He was intrigued. Now he knew for sure that if they didn't mention Myrtle by name they meant someone else, but he didn't want to tell Myrtle just yet since he was curious of what they said.  
  
" Yes." She nodded feverishly. " They spoke loudly, and Peeves heard it all. He told me the conversation. It was somewhat like this."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Draco was walking down the hallway, rather ambling along, his hand locked with Rebecca's. Peeves had floated in over them, his clever eyes seeing a good chance at spying.  
  
Rebecca was saying: "Isn't that little brat annoying?"  
  
Draco had shrugged.  
  
" Vhy vould Harry enjoy her company beats me." Rebecca grumbled.  
  
" I don't mind her that much." Draco admitted, his blue eyes giving a sudden glimmer of thought.  
  
" You should mind her. Vhat an annoying kid!" Rebecca had replied.  
  
" Why do you think that?"  
  
" You ask vhy? Because!" Rebecca thrust her hands up. " All she does is think for Harry. Harry runs to her, tells her vhat troubles him, and she makes up logical reasons for things. If something bad happens to Harry - like that owl thing -"  
  
Draco had paled.  
  
Rebecca continued: " Harry vould just go to that girl and tell her all about his vorries. And she vould somehow solve them for him. She's too smart."  
  
Draco said to that: " Well, she's his friend, Rebecca. You don't honestly think Harry wouldn't trust her with his secrets?"  
  
" Vell, sure he vould." Rebecca's eyes narrowed even farther. "Yet, she could probably be able to put two and two together and help him figure out things. If you know vhat I mean."  
  
" Yeah. You're afraid she'll figure things out, find out what you did, and tell Harry." Draco said. Rebecca shouted at him:  
  
" Never mention vhat I did! People could hear!"  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Myrtle ended her story here, catching her breath.  
  
" It doesn't sound like they were talking about you at all." Harry said, finally. It sounded like they were talking about Hermione, his mind buzzed.  
  
" Who would they talk about?" Myrtle asked, accusingly. "I'm the one everyone hates and wants to talk about."  
  
" No, you're not!" Hermione was flushed with anger. She had realized whom Draco and Rebecca were speaking of, as well.  
  
" Then who?" Myrtle asked, again. "Who did they speak of?"  
  
" Not you, that's for sure." Harry assured her.  
  
" Do you promise on that?" Myrtle asked, softly.  
  
" Yes. I promise you on that." Harry smiled.  
  
" Good." Myrtle looked away from him then. She wasn't crying anymore. " One less thing to cry about."  
  
" Myrtle, you have nothing to cry about. You really ought to try to smile more. Grin and bear it, you know."  
  
" I don't see what being a bear has to do with anything." Myrtle replied.  
  
Harry laughed and then took Hermione's hand. " Well, we should go. It's getting late." Hermione explained.  
  
Myrtle nodded, then waved her hand at them in a dismissive way. Just as they left the bathroom, the sound of the dripping faucets fading from their ears, Myrtle moaned softly: " Visit me. Please."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The next day, as Harry sat in Potions class writing notes (beneath his paper he had another one on which he was writing Ron a note explaining what he heard from Myrtle), when Snape asked the class:  
  
" Do you all know what day this is?"  
  
" Tuesday, sir." Neville piped up.  
  
" Well, aren't you a bright one?" Snape hissed. " I mean, what special thing happens today?"  
  
Hermione dug in her bag. She had the Muggle Almanac inside, for she wanted to show Madame Hooch something that happened a few years ago that might interest her (Harry didn't quite know what). Hermione lifted the Almanac onto her desk and searched for the date, and finding it, she announced: " It was. . . the birthday of United States' president Taft."  
  
" No, no, no!" Snape shook his head in exasperation. " What I mean, is, what's happening today! In Hogwarts!"  
  
The class stared blankly at him.  
  
" A new Defense Against the Arts teacher is coming. I'd known of this for a while now." Snape paced the room angrily.  
  
Harry wondered if Snape had turned grumpy again when he found out about the new teacher.  
  
" Well, who is it?" Draco asked, impatiently.  
  
"That I don't know." Snape said. " But those of you who have the class will be introduced, immanently, to this new teacher." Snape slapped a ruler down on his desk with a THWACK! Two dozen pairs of eyes faced him in surprise.  
  
Hermione's hand went up. Snape was too distracted to forget calling on her. "What is it, Miss Granger?" Snape asked.  
  
" Shouldn't we proceed with a lesson?" She said.  
  
" Shouldn't you keep quiet?" Snape hissed.  
  
Hermione looked down in embarrassment at her desk. Harry gave her a grin to cheer her up and she smiled back, though still visibly humiliated.  
  
Harry knew that Hermione disliked Professor Snape, but he wondered why she still persisted in raising her hand in class. Maybe he'll never know.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Professor Trelawney ushered her students into the packed classroom and seated herself in front of a white crystal ball, glowing like a tell- all orb, exactly how she wanted her students to think of it as. She had decided on making a special day of telling fortunes, knowing that the class was getting tired of reading their palms (or guessing, since many didn't even know what to look for). Parvati, especially, enjoyed making up her own fortune, since she could barely read her palm without making serious mistakes.  
  
Harry had never tried to read his palm, even, since Professor Trelawney usually read it for him as an example for the class every day. Neville, meanwhile, hated reading his palm because he knew it would predict worries and miseries and accidents. Those things made up his life, after all!  
  
Harry had tried reading Hermione's palm from what he had learned but she only laughed and told him that she'd rather read fairy tales and believe THEM.  
  
Harry's eyes met with his teacher's, and she said: "Harry, would you like your fortune read first?"  
  
" No thanks." He replied, surely.  
  
" It's no fun to be frightened of your own fate." Professor Trelawney said, trying to convince him into getting his fortune read.  
  
" It's no fun to be forced into finding out your own fate." Harry countered. Professor Trelawney shrugged her square shoulders, her eyes moving onto Ron Weasley, who was busily eating a jellybean and commenting on how he didn't know they came in raspberry tart flavor.  
  
" Mr. Weasley! Would you like your fate read?" Professor Trelawney asked in what she hoped would be an ominous voice.  
  
He gulped down the jellybean loudly and then said: " Sure."  
  
" Then approach the crystal ball. Ah, yes, it's ready." Professor Trelawney's fingers hovered over the white dome, her lips saying some sort of ancient chant.  
  
The class was lost. A few kids were chattering aimlessly, others watched with some interest, but most didn't really care for what was going on at all. Ron walked up to the dome and then sat down on the chair opposite of the professor.  
  
Her fingers skidded on the ball just then, her nail making a horrible scraping sound. A few children winced.  
  
" I'm sorry. I was distracted by what I saw." Professor Trelawney leaned closer to the orb. " Ah, yes. Your body's natural aura, a magnetic field, if you may call it, is reacting with the spirits."  
  
She hummed softly to herself, swaying to and from the crystal ball. Finally, she ordered Ron to put his hands on top of the ball and to count to ten inside his head. Ron obliged, and then drew his hands back when he was done.  
  
The class watched anxiously now.  
  
" I see your brother, Charles." Professor Trelawney spoke after an awed silence. " I see he's getting sick - much worse. He's bleeding, but the image is distorted." She closed her eyes, then reopened them to say: " I see the Dark Mark!"  
  
Lavender gasped, and Draco scoffed. " Let me guess. Now you see death." Draco drawled.  
  
Ron swallowed uncomfortably and asked: " What else do you see?"  
  
" Your brother deals with dragons. I see a particular one. A tall and mysterious form is riding it, in black robes. This dragon has white scales." Professor Trelawney suddenly snapped from her trance-like, monotone voice and whispered: " An English Whitescale! I've learned of those when I was your age, Ron. They're quite rare now, since the Dragon Scare in 1697. My, many dragons were killed then."  
  
Ron blinked stupidly, not knowing what the professor was talking about, or at least pretending not to.  
  
" Mysterious affair, this is, with your brother. Is he alright?" Professor Trelawney asked.  
  
" Yes. Couldn't be better." Ron shot up to his feet, and stammering nervously, he continued: " Enough of me. Let's see someone else's fate. How about. . . um. . ." He was stumped. Ron knew that absolutely nobody wished to approached the crystal bowl. " . . . Malfoy!"  
  
A few eyes slithered over towards Malfoy, who's back was arched over his table. He was folding a paper plane, which he most likely would aim at the trashcan in the corner of the room. Three white planes were already littering the ground around the trashcan.  
  
" Alright, Draco. Come up to the orb, dear." Professor Trelawney grinned lightly.  
  
" Do I have to?" Malfoy grimaced.  
  
" Yes." Professor Trelawney replied, sweetly but firmly. A silence crossed the room and Ron sat himself down beside Harry, still nervous about what the professor had read from the orb.  
  
Harry didn't seem too interested in whatever Draco's fate held for him. He pulled aside the red, battered curtain behind his chair and searched the Quidditch field for a sign of Hermione.  
  
He found her, finally, standing before Madame Hooch. Madame Hooch was pointing at Hermione's broom and saying something, and Hermione was nodding fervently.  
  
Then, Hermione climbed onto the broom and kicked off into the air, using the method Harry had taught her earlier. A few minutes later, after soaring in the air, she came down to an applauding and beaming Madame Hooch.  
  
Then, the Quidditch teacher grew stern and pointed out something on Hermione's hand, and she moved her wrist a bit, wrapping her fingers tighter on the broomstick.  
  
Harry smiled to himself, seeing how hard Hermione was trying. She was really a good sport. Though, he did wonder why she wanted to play Quidditch so much. It really wasn't a Hermione thing to do.  
  
Harry's attention returned to what was going on in the classroom. Obviously, after quite a struggle, Draco had moved himself into the seat opposite of Professor Trelawney and he had crossed his arms in silent rebellion.  
  
Something was odd in the way the professor was looking into the orb now. She seemed perplexed. " Draco, there's a lot of oddity in here."  
  
Some kids tittered at that comment.  
  
" What do you mean?" Draco asked, his blue eyes glowing like a cat's in the light of the orb.  
  
" Well, some things about you contradict with others." Professor Trelawney moved her fingers over the orb and continued chanting something, then once she figured that the image in the orb was a bit clearer, she told him: " For instance, here it says that there is a certain person you can't stand, and show it rather openly. Yet it also shows that you care for this person and you don't want something bad to happen to them."  
  
Draco shook his head. " That's nonsense."  
  
" I also see that you're struggling between a few consequences: whether to save your own self from impending events, or to notify someone so they might be kept safe." Professor Trelawney frowned. " This isn't making much sense."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. " Can I go back to my seat now?"  
  
" You can warm your seat later. Can't you children understand how important this is?" Professor Trelawney slammed her hand down on the table.  
  
Neville, who had been fast asleep at his desk, jerked upwards in surprise.  
  
" Draco, I sense the magical aura around you. You can quite easily be able to be a light-seer like me if you only allowed yourself to." Professor Trelawney whispered softly.  
  
" I don't want to be one." Draco murmured.  
  
Ron whispered into Harry's ear at that moment: " She was right, you know, about Charlie."  
  
" Is there any news on him?" Harry asked.  
  
" He's been sleepwalking more often. Whenever he sleepwalks, he always ends up facing the west when he wakes up." Ron whispered back.  
  
" Please, boys, stop whispering!" Professor Trelawney warned.  
  
" West. . . isn't that the direction of where the English Whitescale had been sighted?" Harry pondered.  
  
It was true. All over the Witch and Wizard magazines (even on the cover of the Broomstick, which was a national magazine), there was news of Muggles and others sighting the dragon. Of course, the Muggles wouldn't believe their eyes, but the witches and wizards that had seen the dragons knew right off that something was not right.  
  
Harry suddenly stood for the bell was ringing and the class piled out the doors, as fast as they could. Ron caught up with him in the hall and they walked together, discussing things.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
They met their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher just that day. The room was completely dark when they walked in. Since most students don't really take the time to turn the lights on, since Snape usually turns them on as he walks in, they figured that the teacher wasn't there yet.  
  
The room was so dark Harry had a hard time finding his seat. Hermione sat near him in her seat and smiled. " Harry, I think I've got my broom flying down pat."  
  
" That's great!" Harry beamed at her proudly.  
  
" I know. I can't believe it." Hermione tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. " It came as a total shock to me. I didn't think that I'd be flying so early in the air, and so well."  
  
" Did you practice catching a ball in midair yet? That's important, if you want to be a good Quidditch player." Harry reminded her. Oliver Wood had given him that advice, saying that if someone can fly up and catch a ball then that person can just as easily defend a goal, since it's all related in keeping your eye on the ball and never losing sight of it.  
  
" I haven't gotten there yet. Madame Hooch says that if I want to catch the ball then I need to practice good grips on the broom. She said I'll fly right off it if I don't. . ." Hermione was cut off right then for a voice rang, raptly, through the room:  
  
" Attention, class!"  
  
The lights flicked on and everyone turned to the new teacher. To everyone's surprise, it was a woman teacher, the first one in a while to take this position. She was rather pretty, with blonde hair that fell loosely down to her waist and small beady eyes the color of grass. She smiled at the students and said: " I'm sure you're all wondering who I am by now."  
  
A few students nodded in agreement.  
  
The teacher moved towards the front of the room, her scarlet robes fluttering behind her. She put her hands on her hips and with a wide grin, she announced: " My name is Theodora Whims. Please call me whatever you wish. Thea is a common nickname that I had gotten from other schools I had taught in." She smiled gently.  
  
Draco raised his hand.  
  
" Yes, dear? Please give me your name as you make an announcement, so that I could get familiar with such a handsome face." The teacher smiled. She was good, no doubt about that. Harry could tell right off that a lot of students would like her.  
  
"Draco Malfoy." Draco gave his name, a bit taken aback by the teacher's good-natured attitude. " I just wanted to ask if you're planning on leaving at the end of the year, too."  
  
Crabbe and Goyle laughed, while the rest of the class gave Draco a shut-up-right-now kind of look.  
  
" No, actually, I'm planning to stay for a while." Thea smiled even warmer. " I think we'll all get along just fine, now, won't we?"  
  
Nobody replied.  
  
" Why, sure we will!" Thea's smile receded slightly. " Oh, come on, how come everyone's so gloomy? This is going to be a fun class."  
  
" Not when Snape was teaching it." Hermione murmured.  
  
" What's that?" Thea turned to face Hermione. " Stand up, hon, and give the class your name. I have to start learning your names. And while you're at it, tell me what you said, again?"  
  
Hermione blushed uncomfortably and stood. " I'm Hermione Granger, and I was saying that Snape made this class no fun."  
  
" That's too bad." Thea was now rather downcast. "What were you last working on?"  
  
" How to deflect a Liquefier spell. It was a cast-off from a Potions class we did a while ago." Hermione said, and then sat down.  
  
Thea put her hands in the pockets of her robes. " I've been teaching for only two years now, but I can already tell you that I will make deflecting Liquefier spells fun."  
  
" Oh, no you won't." Draco spoke up.  
  
" Draco, if you'll be a dear, please keep such negative opinions to yourself." Thea's smile returned. " Now, take out your books and open them to the appropriate page. I believe it was page forty that had the Liquefier spell on it?"  
  
A few students gave her a murmur in reply and the sound of pages flipping echoed through the room. Thea sat down on her desk and announced: " Are your books open?"  
  
" Yeah." A couple of voices spoke out.  
  
" Good. Now close them."  
  
The students looked a bit puzzled but obliged.  
  
" Now, open to page forty." Thea ordered.  
  
Now even Draco was interested in what was going on. He opened the book to page forty.  
  
" Now close them!" Thea's face beamed.  
  
The puzzlement in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Students whispered, wondering if Thea was another crazy teacher.  
  
" Now, open them to page forty." Thea said.  
  
Very few books were opening now.  
  
" Aha!" Thea was satisfied. " See how much fun it is to open and close your book, lesson after lesson? I can see that already you are discouraged. I don't want my students discouraged." She hopped off her desk. " I now pledge that not once this year will you open your book the way you just did, with such reluctance." The class was now watching her intently, hanging on this cheery new teacher's every word.  
  
" I need two volunteers. Today will be an open-demonstration day. I'll try to make most of them like this." Thea told the students.  
  
The thump and shuffle of students arching in their seats, hands up, surprised Hermione. She was used to be being the only one willing to do anything in class by now.  
  
Thea looked around the room and her eyes fixed on Harry. "If it isn't the Boy That Lived! Harry Potter, you'll be a volunteer, won't you?"  
  
Harry nodded and walked to the front of the room.  
  
" Now, how about you, Draco? I see you don't think this class will be fun, so I'd like you to come up here." Thea motioned for him to approach the front of the room.  
  
The two boys faced each other.  
  
" Draco, do you remember how to cast the Liquefier spell without having someone drink the potion?" Thea asked.  
  
" No." Draco shook his head in confirmation to his words. "Snape never taught us that. He only taught us how to make the Liquefier work by potion."  
  
" Well, it's easy. Just point your wand at Harry and say: Liquefier, Liquefier, Melt away the heart's desire, body of rock, body of stone, keep the form, lose the bone."  
  
The students watched as Harry aimed his wand at Harry and began to say the spell. Harry cried out as Draco's wand zapped him with the spell and the familiar feeling of turning into liquid crossed his body.  
  
Soon he was just a puddle, his eyes swimming around, trying to take in the room. It felt like looking into a kaleidoscope, with everything in the room a total scrambled mess.  
  
Thea tapped Harry-the-puddle and said the reverse of the spell: "Liquefier, Liquefier, retreat!"  
  
Harry was back to his old self. Draco was laughing, actually pleased with getting the chance to turn Harry into liquid. Harry glared at him, then turned to Thea, asking: " Now what?"  
  
" Harry, I'll teach you how to reflect the spell. If you're successful, here's what will happen." Thea whispered the consequence into Harry's ear. Everyone stared as Harry laughed.  
  
" So, do we have a deal? Just say the words." Thea patted Harry's back.  
  
Draco began to do the spell on Harry again, but just as Draco was a few words away from the end of the spell, Harry shouted out: "Bones of stone, Blood of fire, repel the Liquefier!"  
  
The two spells collided midair and what looked like a fireworks display rocketed between the two wands. Then, Harry and the entire class began to holler with laughter as Draco's body began to melt into liquid instead.  
  
Draco was soon after returned to his normal self, and Harry and he returned to their seats. Thea turned to the gleeful class and said: " See? Didn't that make it more fun?"  
  
The class wholeheartedly agreed.  
  
Just then, the class ended and the students raced from the room, and Harry caught a glimpse of Thea sitting down onto her chair, smiling in satisfaction. She had gotten through to her students, and Harry was glad the new teacher was going to be fun.  
  
A/N: Happy Holidays, my readers. And Fellow Christians: may the upcoming birthday of Jesus warm our hearts.  
  
P.S. Read my silly poem "The Treat", an HP parody, since it's not getting reviews !!! Thanx. 


	9. Hagrid's Lisa

1 Author's Note: I've been writing this chapter for a good total of four hours, and it's still only 5000 words. Well, that's alright, ch.8 was long. Oh, yeah. I don't own these characters, sadly. *weep*  
  
2 Chapter 9  
  
3 Hagrid's Lisa  
  
A few days passed and Harry found himself sitting with Hermione in the library on a cold Friday evening. She was absorbed in a book (Harry read the spine of the book and it was '1001 Arabian Nights', a book he had never read). Harry, meanwhile, was just there since Hermione was.  
  
Harry leaned forwards on the desk and sighed. His breath rustled the pages of Hermione's book, and she glanced up at him.  
  
" Oh, you're still here, Harry?" She asked, surprised.  
  
" Where else would I be?" He smiled.  
  
" I don't know. I didn't think you'd sit there, staring at me." She put the book down and leaned on her hand. " Is there anything new? Did you even get any research done on why You-Know-Who might need English Whitescales? You can do that, if you have nothing better to do."  
  
Harry shrugged. " I didn't find anything new, so I guess I will look it up."  
  
" Mmm. Good idea." Hermione's eyes were plastered to the book again and she was whispering the words to herself as she read, smiling.  
  
Harry got up and looked around the library. He didn't quite know which corner to look through. There was the entire row of books on Magical Creatures, and finally, he headed towards there.  
  
He traced the dusty, cracked spines of the books with his finger, then stopped upon a certain book, his eyes widening. It had, in big fancy letters, the words: 'English Whitescales'. He slowly pulled it out and then blew on the cover.  
  
His breath made a circle in the dust and he slowly opened the book. There wasn't much dust on it compared to the other books. It must have been taken out not that long ago.  
  
He suddenly looked at the inside left cover. Someone's name was written, but it had blurred. The pages were wrinkled, as if dropped in the rain.  
  
He finally maid out a few letters, with the letters he couldn't make out represented as blanks:  
  
_eb_o_a_  
  
The words were written messily and he wondered whose name it could have been. He wasn't familiar with any names that had those letters in them.  
  
He carried the book back to the table at which Hermione sat. She looked up at him and asked:  
  
" What have you got there, Harry? You couldn't have possibly found a good source so quickly."  
  
" I have." He replied, and showed her the ancient-looking book. " It doesn't belong to the library though. It must be one of the students' personal books, returned to the library by accident. Do you recognize the name?"  
  
Hermione looked at the watery, distilled ink and shook her head. " It's too blurry." She flipped to the first page, where a clear picture of the dragon was depicted. It looked beautiful, yet fierce.  
  
The picture was old, probably painted in the fourteenth or fifteenth century, judging by the style. Yet, it had this interesting glow to it. The dragon was directly in the middle, and beside it, like a frightened cowering ant, was a knight. The knight's armor had purposely been dulled by the artist's brush, making it look almost muddled. There was a sheen sort of glow to the dragon's scales instead, and a handsome glimmer in the dragon's eyes. Whoever had painted it would have rooted for the dragon to win if they were to see the knight and dragon fight it out.  
  
" It's a nice painting." Hermione said. " I wonder who did it?" The water had blurred away the name of the artist, as well, but she did catch the date on it. Harry was right, it was from the fourteenth century, and it was an oil painting.  
  
Harry flipped the page for her, and they both began to read (he was reading over her shoulder) the text of the book, which was set in a lovely old-fashioned type:  
  
'The English Whitescale (Dragnificus Purinus):  
  
Known to have originated from the northern  
  
parts of England, these likeness of these  
  
creatures is often depicted on the Muggle  
  
custom of coats-of-arms for knights. They  
  
are generally distinguished from others by  
  
the main features:  
  
A sturdy, long neck.  
  
A delicate skull that is set with double  
  
rows of razor-sharp teeth.  
  
The lack of a hind finger on the forelegs,  
  
most likely due to the inbreeding this species  
  
suffered after the Dragon Scare.  
  
Scales that are pure white and reflective  
  
of the sun. Men who sighted this described  
  
how the beast's scales would blind them  
  
before they could capture it.  
  
In all, these creatures are oddly familiar  
  
to the Scottish Green-eyes, which had gone  
  
extinct in 1436, but whom we recognize from  
  
paintings.'  
  
Harry stopped reading and then said: " I don't think this first section will tell us much for what this dragon might be useful for if captured by a dark lord."  
  
" I agree." Hermione slammed the book shut, then opened to the index in back. She traced with her finger to where she found: 'Uses. . . use of scales, of blood, of bones. . .'  
  
She flipped to the page and read:  
  
'English Whitescales have many uses.  
  
Their scales can be ground to a fine powder  
  
and then mixed with unicorn blood. In doing  
  
so, one can become even immortal. The dragon  
  
has to be exactly a hundred years old for their  
  
scales to achieve this quality. Before or past  
  
that age, for an unexplained reason, the powder  
  
will have no effect on the one who wishes to be  
  
immortal.'  
  
" That's weird." Harry whispered. " Of course, Voldemort - er, You- Know-Who, would want to be immortal. But how could he have known that the English Whitescale would be a hundred, or whatever?"  
  
" He didn't."  
  
" Huh?" Harry looked at Hermione.  
  
" He couldn't have known. That's why he must have seaked into the office of Timothy Rower, and had taken the papers on the English Whitescale - to know it's age!" Hermione laughed. "Aha! I knew it! And then Timothy must have come into the office and caught You-Know-Who, and then You-Know- Who killed him." Hermione's voice dropped to a whisper. " Harry, this is huge! I can't believe we came to these conclusions so early!"  
  
" Neither can I." Harry replied, gloomily, for he wished he could tell Hermione much more from what he learned from Ron. But he had a promise with Ron, and a promise that crossed that one with Hermione.  
  
He was confused and stuck between his friends.  
  
Hermione said: " I wonder if You-Know-Who got a dragon from somewhere yet. Does Charlie keep contact with other Whitescale keepers? Maybe one of their dragons had vanished mysteriously." Hermione's eyes were clouded with thought.  
  
" There's more to the uses of the dragon." Harry told her, and then read from the book:  
  
' English Whitescales have blood that  
  
can be used to make one's power twice as  
  
great. This feat had only been successful  
  
with a very few great and powerful wizards.  
  
One man who had used this potion, at an  
  
early age, was Albus Dumbledore, in making  
  
a severe promise that he will always be  
  
strong and fight against Voldemort.'  
  
Harry stopped, his eyes widening. " Dumbledore drank the blood!" He exclaimed, then turned to Hermione. " That means he might know more about these dragons then we do."  
  
" I suppose. But would you dare to talk to him about it?" Hermione asked.  
  
" No." Harry turned red. " I don't think he'd even want to talk about it. That's sort of a very private thing, you know. I doubt that Dumbledore would want us to know."  
  
" Yeah, I guess." Hermione read on for him: " Look at this. . .  
  
' English Whitescales' bones,  
  
especially the marrow, had been used in  
  
making charms. The charms, supposedly,  
  
would then be possessed with either an evil  
  
or a good spirit. Many of Voldemort's followers  
  
were found wearing such charms, and some  
  
believe Voldemort had tried to brainwash  
  
them with the evil spirit dwelling in the charms  
  
to follow him.'  
  
" Wow! This book is fabulous!" Hermione hugged the book to her. " Oh, Harry, this is practically priceless information! I can't believe I'm actually reading this! This could open so many doors!"  
  
He grinned. " Glad you, uh, like it."  
  
She pushed aside 'A 1001 Arabian Nights' and plopped down the thick book on English Whitescales in its place. " I'll read this through, thoroughly, and I'll most likely get back to you on some of this stuff by next week." Hermione said.  
  
" You can read a book like THIS in a WEEK?" Harry was amazed.  
  
" Sure." Hermione shrugged, as if it were nothing, simply a ten-page- long children's book. " It's not too bad. I could read it quicker then that, even, but I don't think I should put my schoolwork on hold for this."  
  
" You're right." Harry stood up, his eyes on the clock hanging from the wall. " Oh, man! It's seven!" He feverishly loaded his notebook and quill into his school bag and then seeing Hermione's questionable look, he explained:  
  
" I was going to see Hagrid today. He wanted to talk to me."  
  
" Oh." Hermione nodded. " Well, then, see you tomorrow. I'll probably hit the sack by the time you come back."  
  
Harry gave her a light hug and told her goodnight, then headed outside.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The night air was frosty, and Harry immediately realized that fall was taking over full-blast. It was going to be October in just a very few days, and then Halloween, and before he'd know it then Christmas would be in the air, with children holding candy canes and people caroling and him spending the holidays at Hermione's house. It had been settled, after all, that he'd spend the Christmas holidays with Hermione and her family. He looked forwards to it, though he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks at the thought he would spend an entire holiday vacation with Hermione.  
  
Harry stumbled through a thick growth of ferns and then realized something was glistening in the moonlight. He picked it up. It was a letter. He opened it, out of plain curiosity, and his heart stopped seeing it was his letter to Sirius. He had been lucky that nobody had found it.  
  
Now the whole incident was clear: the brief disappearance of Hedgwig was just a red herring and it had nothing to deal with the mystery. It was the death of Sirius' owl that put Rebecca on a pedestal with a huge black sign over her neck: GUILTY.  
  
Of course, Harry now realized that poor Hedgwig must have dropped the letter, and not being able to find it, she had cowered away in shame inside the comforting owlery.  
  
Hedgwig had probably hurt her wing when she was searching for the letter, since Harry could see a great deal of jagged twigs and rocks pointing from the grass. The Quidditch field had been neglected over the summer and Hagrid, the gamekeeper (and the one who oftentimes helped clean up the fields) had been off in Hogsmeade now more then when he was inside Hogwarts.  
  
Hagrid's hut was a shining star at the end of the endless field. Harry knocked on the door with his left hand, while shoving the letter to Sirius back inside his pocket.  
  
The door opened and Hagrid looked at Harry, his black beard actually a bit combed down today. He smelled very nice, as if he had taken a long time applying cologne.  
  
" Hey, Hagrid." Harry rubbed his hands together, his teeth chattering. "Sure is c-c-cold out today."  
  
" Aye. Yer lucky that it ain't like back seven years ago, before ye came to Hogwarts. It snowed mid-fall, I tell ya." Hagrid moved aside from the door, realizing that while he was talking he'd been blocking the doorway from poor Harry.  
  
Harry stumbled inside, rosy-cheeked, and then closed the massive door behind him. Harry's eyes immediately fell onto Hagrid's table. Three white doiles - doilies! - were spread out neatly across it.  
  
" Doilies, Hagrid?" Harry exclaimed.  
  
" Blimey, Harry, don't ya think it's 'bout time I added some cheer to this 'ere home?" Hagrid turned to him, his eyes twinkling.  
  
" This isn't like you. What's going on?" Harry asked the tall man.  
  
" Suppose it's 'bout time I told you why I've been off to Hogsmeade so much." Hagrid admitted.  
  
" I'm listening." Harry sat down on a huge brown leather chair in the corner of the room and then propped an elbow on the gigantic wooden table. He felt the lumpy doily beneath it and held it up. It was hand-made. " Wait. Who made these for you? I don't think you could hold a needle too well, to make this design." Harry's finger ran over the flower-pattern.  
  
" That be part of what I'm trying to tell you. 'Ere I am, babblin' again. I don't think I should worry you, Harry. It's me own problem." Hagrid heaved himself down onto the other side of he table. He glanced at the boiling cauldron hanging over the fire, and added: "Maybe you'd like some tea?"  
  
" No thanks." Harry replied. " Tell me what's going on."  
  
" Yer too stubborn." Hagrid grumbled. " I s'pose it's nothin' big, just yer average everyday happenings, and all, but it's big to me, and. . ."  
  
" You're babbling again." Harry smiled.  
  
" Oh! Sorry." Hagrid's string of words was cut off neatly and he got down to business: " Ya see, Harry, I got really interested into wood carvin', that you know, right?"  
  
Harry nodded. The pot over the fire fizzled loudly and then a thin mist of bubbles frothed over the side. Hagrid shot up to his feet and pulled the cauldron off the fire and then hastily set a mug onto the table while pouring himself some water into it with his other hand. He glanced up at Harry and said: " Yer sure you ain't got the hankerin' for tea? It'll clean yer insides out."  
  
" My insides are fine." Harry assured him. " Now, keep going."  
  
" Alright, alright." Hagrid sipped at the hot tea, then said: "Well, it ain't the greatest o' hobbies, wood carvin', 'specially since I never done it before an' all."  
  
" I guess you're right." Harry said, impatiently.  
  
" So, naturally, I wanted to get me some 'elp." Hagrid explained, then dipped his finger under the loop of the little silver sugar container and scooped some sugar into his tea.  
  
" They offer help for wood carving?" Harry was awed. He knew there were art classes and there was pottery instruction, but he didn't know there was wood carving help.  
  
" 'Course there is!" Hagrid slammed his mug down. " Decent course, I went through, but didn't feel right. So, I took 'nother course."  
  
" Uh-uh." Harry watched Hagrid swirl his spoon through his tea. Hagrid looked nervous.  
  
" Yer sure you ain't feelin' like gettin' some . . ." Hagrid began.  
  
" No tea!" Harry raised his voice sharply, then added: " Sorry, it's just I don't feel like tea. Honestly."  
  
" Maybe you feel like an egg?" Hagrid asked.  
  
" No, I feel like a Harry." Harry kidded, then added: " Hagrid, stop delaying. So you took another help course, and what happened?"  
  
" What happen'd was this: the new instructor was this great girl, her name's Lisa." Hagrid smiled fondly. " She's half giant, yer know. Tall like me, strappin', well built lady."  
  
Harry realized where the conversation was going. " Hagrid!" He smiled.  
  
" Aye, Lisa was somethin'. I began to go to that class more and more. Soon I was a master, and I still kept carvin' wood in her class. Soon I became her assistant. 'Er ASSISTANT, Harry!" Hagrid looked near tears of joy.  
  
" Cool." Harry gave him a thumb's-up sign.  
  
" Yeh'd think that that would've been enough of Lisa, the kin' soul. But then she offered me somethin' much better." Hagrid paused. "Guess, Harry."  
  
" Oh, no!" Harry was awful at guessing games. He'd always guess the right answer completely last. A/N: read my fic 'guessing game' for more on this!!!!!!  
  
" Fine, fine, I won't keep yer hangin'." Hagrid grinned proudly. " She offered me a date."  
  
" Great job, Hagrid. It sounds like she's really into you." Harry smiled in congratulations at Hagrid.  
  
" I know." Hagrid said, not too modestly.  
  
" Well, go on!" Harry prompted.  
  
" This was all durin' the summer, too. Then when yer classmates and you came to Hogwarts, I knew I had to back outta any jobs Dumbledore might offer me, to keep seein' Lisa. I told Dumbledore I was too busy." Hagrid winked.  
  
Harry laughed. " I don't think Dumbledore would be mad if you just told him the truth."  
  
" It ain't no fun that way." Hagrid replied, then continued: "Lisa made me them doilies. She an' I are really hittin' it off. She said she ain't never had anyone like me, and I ain't had nobody like her."  
  
" That's really, completely great." Harry couldn't have felt happier for his old friend, the first friend he made from the wizard world. " Lisa sounds really nice. Do you have a picture of her, or something? I sure would like to see her."  
  
" That wouldn't be too hard. Lisa!" Hagrid called out.  
  
Suddenly, the closet door burst open and a rosy-cheeked, tall woman with long frizzy brown hair and a round nose emerged. Her eyes were an odd honey color, with a few freckles on her cheeks that were embedded in the seas of rosy blush that covered them. Her face was young and old at the same time. She was most likely Hagrid's age, with a girlish glow, but a wisdom belonging to an older lady.  
  
Harry gaped in surprise. " You sneak!" He said to Hagrid. "You caught me completely off guard!" Harry held out his hand to Hagrid's girlfriend, Lisa, and her entire hand enveloped his, and he immediately felt a reminder of when he first took Hagrid's hand - that amazing hugeness that shocked him completely from the very beginning. Lisa grinned and took a deeper squeeze to his hand, then shook it.  
  
It felt as if his entire hand was getting jiggled apart. Harry drew his hand back and exclaimed: " Wow!"  
  
" We wanted ter surprise ya, Harry." Hagrid explained.  
  
" You did just that." Harry replied.  
  
Lisa's cheeks turned even redder as Hagrid wrapped his arm around her. They were both exactly the same height, even, to the very millimeter. Hagrid squeezed her closer, then added: " Harry, Lisa an' I are gettin' married."  
  
Harry thought that he couldn't get more surprised. But now his entire jaw collapsed downwards in utter shock and his eyes widened until he was gawking. He said, after a moment of being completely taken-aback: " Since when? Does anyone else know?"  
  
Lisa shook her head. " Hagrid insisted to let you know, but otherwise, we're the only other souls that know."  
  
" Incredible!" Harry laughed. " Congratulations! Both of you! Now I gotta buy you a decent wedding gift."  
  
" Lisa's the greatest gift for me, Harry." Hagrid hugged Lisa tighter. " An' guess what?"  
  
" What?" Harry asked, open now to any surprise, twist, or turn.  
  
" Lisa likes magical creatures, too."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry now had yet another secret. Hagrid, of course, told him he could tell Ron and Hermione about Hagrid and Lisa's engagement, but Harry wished he could hang white bells and let doves loose all over. He wanted to give them a parade, he wished for the world to sing in congratulations for his dear friend Hagrid and his new friend, Lisa.  
  
As he worked on a homemade card for the happy new couple (or soon would be), Harry realized how much was changing in his life. Everyone was finding some sort of love these days.  
  
He himself found his eyes moving lazily more and more often to the pictures of Hermione that he owned and he looked less and less into the Quidditch magazines cluttering the common room.  
  
As he wrote the last few words on the card's front, and was ready to begin the inside of it, Ron strolled into the common room. Since it was the next day, which was a Saturday, Harry spent most of his time making the card and Ron missed hanging out with his friend.  
  
Ron leaned on the wall and said, softly: "Hey, Harry. What's cooking?"  
  
Harry looked up, and replied: " Wedding cake."  
  
Ron approached him, looking over Harry's shoulder at the card. " How cute." Ron finally said. " Homemade." His voice was teasing.  
  
" Aw, come on, Hagrid loves homemade stuff. He practically framed those doilies Lisa made for him." Harry replied.  
  
" He should have. The way he eats, those doilies will be brown in days." Ron was now hovering close to Harry's desk, his eyes scanning the picture Harry drew. Harry had drawn a little white dove, with all his artistic skill possible, and then added a little heart into its mouth.  
  
Harry replied to Ron's statement: " Lisa will keep Hagrid's little cabin clean."  
  
" Where will they sleep, though? That home is tiny. If they bring Lisa in, the entire place will be busting it's seams." Ron wondered.  
  
" Love has no boundaries. I read that in a book once." Harry added the last sentence so Ron wouldn't think he was some sort of romantic, memorizing such quotes.  
  
" Do you want to go outside, maybe play some sort of game? It's still light out." Ron suggested.  
  
Harry glanced outside. He knew Ron was lonely, he really had nobody else but Harry (except Hermione, but she didn't seem like someone Ron would want to go outside and play a game with). Harry smiled and agreed to go outside and play some sort of game, though he didn't really feel like it.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
That Saturday evening, Harry was sitting in the dining hall, fastening a letter to Hedgwig's leg. It wasn't a specific letter to anyone. Hermione was waiting outside to receive it, to see if Hedgwig was strong enough to carry letters again (after hurting her wing).  
  
Harry held his hand up and with that sharp movement, Hedgwig flew off his finger and out the window. She flew awkwardly, though, almost as if there was an imbalance in her wings. Harry's forehead creased in thought as to whether he should continue pushing Hedgwig or not.  
  
Soon after, Hedgwig was returning with Hermione's reply. Harry opened the letter and read the scribbled single stanza:  
  
HARRY, I DON'T THINK HEDGWIG IS STRONG ENOUGH TO FLY YET. HERM.  
  
Harry nodded in agreement, and then patted Hedgwig's head. The owl cooed and then nuzzled his small head into the warm crevice of Harry's cloak. Harry smoothened its ruffled feathers and then got up to return it to the owlery, since that's where it would heal best, among fellow owls.  
  
Harry was a few feet from the doorway when he saw Draco. Draco's eyes grew wide as saucers at the sight of Harry's snowy owl resting on Harry's sleeve.  
  
" Is that your owl?" Draco drawled in surprise.  
  
Harry knew he'd been found. If Draco knew that Hedgwig wasn't really the owl that was dead, then he might tell Rebecca, and then Rebecca would try to kill the real Hedgwig to frighten Harry. Harry wouldn't even let that risk to occur, so he replied, after some quick thinking: " No."  
  
" Then who's owl is it?" Draco asked.  
  
" Hermione's. Her new one. It's name is Sunny." Harry proclaimed. Sunny did look a lot like Hedgwig, after all, and so Harry knew it was his best bet on hiding the true identity of the owl on his sleeve. Harry added, trying to seem nonchalant: " Why? Do you suppose my owl shouldn't be here, for some reason?"  
  
Draco shook his head. " No. I'm just wondering if that's your owl." Draco then stepped aside and Harry passed through. Hedgwig's hurt wing was obvious, and Draco asked:  
  
" What happened to it's wing?"  
  
" Why do you care?" Harry turned halfway, his face in profile to Draco.  
  
" I do. It's an animal, for Heaven's sakes. You don't think I WANT it to be hurt?" Draco's cold blue eyes suddenly gave out a signal of human concern, and Harry was slightly startled.  
  
" Well, sure you don't want him to be hurt." Harry smiled reassuringly at Draco, then said: " I'll see you around, Draco. I have to return Hed - Sunny to the owlery."  
  
Draco nodded in understanding. "See ya, Harry." He replied. No crude comment. Not 'See ya, POTTER' or 'See ya, Scar-Face'.  
  
Harry couldn't help but wonder if he and Draco could be friends.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Hagrid's soft black eyes were melting like butter as he smiled at Lisa. She was smiling right back at him, her eyes melting the same exact way.  
  
Lisa puckered her lips and kissed his hairy cheek.  
  
Harry couldn't help but feel a bit queasy at this love display, but Hermione was delighted. Harry had brought her along to speak with the new couple personally.  
  
Hagrid suddenly winked at Harry. " I hear that yer a couple all on your own with Hermione."  
  
Hagrid's grin doubled as Hermione and Harry's faces both exploded in a red-hot fire. Harry stammered out, to Lisa's amusement: " Well, you know, I. . . um . . ."  
  
There was a silence, and then Lisa laughed cheerily and brought Harry and Hermione closer to her. " Aw, don't you be ashamed of it, dears!" Her massive arms crunched the two fifth-years to her body, then she let them go.  
  
Hagrid beamed happily at Lisa.  
  
" Rubeus, do you think that we might get a job together here at Hogwarts, to teach woodcarving to the students?" Lisa asked him.  
  
" I 'spose it'd be wise, to get these kids involved in art!" Hagrid nodded.  
  
Hermione suddenly seemed to get an idea. Her face lit up, and Harry imagined that a light bulb had gone off over her head, like in cartoons.  
  
Hermione turned to the happy couple and asked: " So, you're both involved in magical creatures?"  
  
The two nodded. Lisa added: " Always have been, young lady. It's probably the one thing that kept me going in school."  
  
" What school did you go to?" Hermione asked.  
  
" Why, here at Hogwarts." Lisa smiled.  
  
" Really? With Hagrid?" Harry asked.  
  
" Well. . . sort of." Hagrid's brow furled. He had, after all, dropped out in the third year. Lisa didn't seem to know of this and she looked at Hagrid curiously. Before anyone could say anything else, Hermione burst in, continuing the topic she had begun:  
  
" If you both like magical creatures, can you tell me everything you know on English Whitescales?"  
  
" Whitescales." Hagrid breathed the word out in wonder. "Close relative of the Norwegian Ridgeback, ain't it?"  
  
Lisa nodded. " Closest, I believe."  
  
" I had a Norwegian Ridgeback. I reckon yer not aware of it." Hagrid turned to Lisa again. Harry and Hermione had faded into the background of the two lovers again.  
  
Hagrid took Lisa's hand, their two giant palms fitting into one another like puzzle pieces, their fingers easily twining together.  
  
Hermione persisted: " So, can you tell me some other things about the dragons?"  
  
" Come on, Hermione. We should leave them be." Harry gave Hermione a meaningful look, and her mouth formed a little red 'O'. Then, they slowly moved from the house, saying a cheery: "Goodbye, then, Hagrid! See ya around, Lisa."  
  
Lisa and Hagrid had called back: " 'Bye."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
As they walked back towards Hogwarts, the tall black castle looming against the slate-black sky and the Saturday evening's sunset, Harry stopped Hermione. She turned to him, her eyes full of wonder at what he was doing.  
  
" Hermione, I gotta tell you something."  
  
"What is it?" She asked.  
  
Harry's mind buzzed. He had been thinking about it for a while now, but didn't know how to introduce the idea to her. "Well, I don't want to look like I'm giving in to what everyone believes, and all, but. . ."  
  
Hermione's head cocked sideways in anticipation.  
  
Harry could feel his cheeks and ears growing warm. He didn't want that to happen, he figured boys weren't supposed to do that a lot. And yet, it happened, and he spoke fast: " . . . Would you be okay if I thought of you as my girlfriend? It's okay if you don't. I mean, I figured since the dance we've been more of a couple, but we hadn't really formally agreed on it. It's okay if you don't." Harry repeated the last sentence, then stopped. He felt awkward.  
  
Hermione laughed. " Harry, It's perfectly alright with me."  
  
" You mean it?" Harry was delighted.  
  
Her head bobbed up and down in a nod, and then Harry hugged her close. " Oh, Herm, that means a lot to me." He whispered into her hair. Then, they moved back to the castle without saying another word.  
  
They didn't need to, after all.  
  
A/N: Now, if you read this far and you want me to keep going, then review this story. (If you already did then don't worry about it, though it would be cool if you'd review it for every chapter, so then I'll know if the writing's turning shabby or erroneous and I'll take a bit of a breather and stop hurrying to get the chapter done).  
  
P.S. If you like this then read some of my shorter fictions. Oh, and sorry if I end with too many cliffhangers, though I try not to. I don't think this chapter was a cliffhanger, in my opinion. Yet sometimes cliffies are good since then people come back to read more. Or at least review more. 


	10. Conversations

1 Chapter 10  
  
2 Conversations  
  
  
  
A week passed by sluggishly, and it was finally the next Sunday and October had come in, with its lovely coat of red and orange leaves. The nights lagged longer while the day shrunk into a very few hours of daylight. The stars twinkled brighter, meanwhile, in the frosty night air, and the trees swayed in an old rhythm. Nature was beating on a tribal drum, signaling an old due date for the metamorphosis from green to colorful.  
  
Leaves cluttered and clogged every nook and cranny outside. Harry's latest Quidditch game was rather hard to play, since leaves kept blowing into his face from the roaring trees. Twice he had to let loose of his iron grip on the broom, tense muscles relaxing, to swipe at the attacking leaves. They had covered his glasses and one even flew into his mouth. If his reaction were to be put as an antonym, then he was 'delighted' with playing in such weather.  
  
Gryffindor had won this match, which was against Hufflepuff this time. Rebecca, the captain of Hufflepuff, had to be soothed and pulled from the field by Cho (the Ravenclaw Seeker), since Rebecca looked ready to hiss and scratch all over poor Harry.  
  
Harry had, happily, earned a kiss from Hermione that same night as they sat in front of the crackling fireplace, the room wafted with the scent of the cinnamon candles that Hermione had set up on the mantle of the fireplace.  
  
Ron, meanwhile, was playing a fierce game of chess with Nick, Cho's brother, and Ron won by a hair, since Nick proved to be a skilled player, even for a first-year.  
  
Harry's mind drifted with joy and well-meaning, of course, as he woke that Sunday, and faced the mirror on the wall. The mirror chimed out:  
  
" Good morning, dear!"  
  
Harry smiled and replied the greeting, then rummaged sleepily for a comb or brush. After locating the tool, he combed his hair, and then grumbled in frustration when his hair slowly oozed back to its original shape.  
  
Harry put the brush down with a bang, then looked for his sanitary supplies, which he kept in the upper drawer of the bureau that had been designated for the boy's use in the common room. He unzipped the pale blue bag and pulled out what he hoped would be his toothbrush.  
  
Instead, he saw a multitude of girl's hair supplies. He immediately recognized the work of Fred and George Weasley, the original pranksters. Ever since they came to Hogwarts, the one sole purpose on their minds was to play as many pranks as they could before their final and last year was over.  
  
Harry smirked and dumped the butterfly clips and scrunchies down into Fred's drawer, not knowing which one was George's, and then wrote him a quick note:  
  
SEEMS YOU MISPLACED YOUR BELONGINGS.  
  
Then, Harry found his real hygiene supplies buried under Fred's socks (Harry tossed through these, pretending he was wearing thick dragon-hide gloves). Finding his belongings, Harry headed for the bathroom.  
  
After taking a quick shower, he molded his wet hair into what seemed to be a more acceptable hairdo and then examined himself in the mirror. The towel hung loosely on his hips, and he squinted to see since his glasses weren't on.  
  
Perhaps it was the muscles he had on his arms, or the glint in his eye, but he was pleased with what he saw.  
  
He put a dollop of toothpaste onto his toothbrush and proceeded brushing his teeth. He realized only later that Fred and George had thought ahead and switched his toothpaste with a prank brand. The words on the tube read: 'Proven to turn your teeth a Sparkling Black!'  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and then opened his mouth. He appeared to have no teeth at all since they were now the color of black ink and blended with the dark in the back of his throat. Still not letting this spoil his day, Harry washed his teeth again with the right toothpaste.  
  
A few minutes later, after completing the rest of his morning preparations, he figured he was done. The Harry in the mirror glowed in a godlike shine from all the work he'd done on himself. His hair was drying already though and the black strands were snapping back into their usual position. The only cure for this would be to shave himself bald, and maybe even then it would do no good. And Harry had no intentions to be bald.  
  
This reminded him of a gruesome joke that Ron and he laughed about only yesterday. As he walked to the dining hall, he ran the joke over in his mind:  
  
~~~~Patient: Doctor!  
  
Doctor: What is the problem?  
  
Patient: I have a mustache!  
  
Doctor: So? Lots of people have mustaches!  
  
Patient: But I'm twelve.  
  
Doctor: People sometimes mature faster.  
  
Patient: But I'm a girl.  
  
Doctor: Lots of women have facial hair.  
  
Patient: But I'm also bald!  
  
Doctor: So? Lots of beautiful women are bald and have mustaches.  
  
Patient: My head gets cold, I sneeze, and the snot gets caught in my mustache.~~~  
  
Harry made a face at the memory of the joke. He didn't like it as much now that he reflected on it, but he had laughed like crazy over it with Ron. He reminded himself to share it with Neville. Ron said he read it in a Muggle book called 'Dogs Don't Tell Jokes'.  
  
The dining hall nearly stopped him before he even entered it. A thick smell of bacon and eggs pummeled through the wooden framed doors, and Harry was drawn to it as if on a silver cloud.  
  
Soon he found himself sitting beside Hermione, relishing in the food. Hermione said to him:  
  
" I finished that book on English Whitescales, that you found in the library."  
  
" Did you find anything new?" Harry asked her, looking up from a delicious- looking piece of buttered toast. He had quite a ravenous appetite today since he chose to skip dinner yesterday to be with Hermione, and his reward for it was worth the missed meal.  
  
" Not a single thing." Hermione shook her head sadly. " I suppose we can't always get right on the trail with things."  
  
" I suppose not." Harry took a bite from the toast, then saw Neville coming near. " Hey, Neville!" Harry called out. "Wanna hear a joke? It's gross AND funny."  
  
Neville looked genuinely interested, just like any boy, but then shook his head. " I can't, Harry. I'm supposed to see Dumbledore. My grandmother has questions for him."  
  
" You don't know what you're missing!" He called after his friend.  
  
Neville nodded solemnly, knowing all too well that he was missing a good belly-laugh. He pursued going towards Dumbledore at the front of the room, though, not even looking back at Harry so as not to be drawn to him.  
  
Harry turned back to Hermione, who was reading the book 'A 1001 Arabian Nights' again. He noticed once again her plate was empty. "Herm, why aren't you eating again?"  
  
She shrugged. " I don't feel like it."  
  
" Now, that's just stupid. You haven't been reading those Muggle magazines again, have you?" Harry asked.  
  
Hermione didn't reply, but the expression on her face showed that she had. Harry sighed and then put his arm around her shoulders. " Herm, you're not fat. You can eat."  
  
Hermione's hand inched up and then slowly made its way around Harry's waist this time, and she looked at him. " If not for the fact you're always a sweetie, then I'd believe you."  
  
" Hey! I wouldn't lie to you." Harry said, his hand dropping from her shoulders.  
  
Ron was listening in. He pointed at Harry and said: "Yeah, would that face lie to you?"  
  
Hermione looked at Harry, who was giving her his most soulful, most puppy dog eyes, and her smile tugged upwards as if the corners of her mouth were on strings and someone had jerked them upwards. Her smile wasn't artificial though.  
  
" Oh, Harry." She put her head on his shoulder, then turned and began to eat.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry stopped Peeves in the hallway. Peeves looked up to something, though perhaps he always did, with the way his eyebrows were arched suspiciously high on his ghostly face. Peeves turned to Harry in mock anger and shouted: " What do you want!"  
  
The black-haired boy replied: " I need to ask you something."  
  
" Me?" Peeves floated down towards the ground a few inches, his eyes scanning Harry in wonder. Why on earth would Harry want to ask him anything?  
  
" I don't see anyone else here. Though maybe I don't really SEE you, either, since you're see-through, but. . ." Harry decided not to get into the details and continued: " Moving on! You told Myrtle a tale about how Draco and Rebecca were talking about her."  
  
" I most certainly did not! Where in the world did you get such a ghastly idea!" Peeves pretended to know nothing about what Harry was saying.  
  
" Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about!" Harry raised his finger in scolding, then lowered it in disappointment, since Peeves didn't look ready to talk. " Look, Peeves, you might pretend to be dumb but you know more about what's going on in this school and who did what then Dumbledore."  
  
Peeves seemed complimented. " That's true."  
  
" I only need you to tell me a few things. Did you hear Draco and Rebecca speak of anything else suspicious?" Harry asked. He knew it was desperation to ask Peeves such a thing, but he highly suspected Rebecca of being up to more then he even knew.  
  
Peeves was lost in thought. " Let me see. . . Oh, yes, I remember something with Draco. . ."  
  
" Tell me!" Harry demanded.  
  
" It wasn't Draco exactly though. Draco was mending Goyle's pants, since Goyle can't hold a needle in those fat stubby fingers, and Draco wasn't too happy either. He hates being a babysitter at times for those two lugs." Peeves grinned mischievously. " Goyle bent over, you know, to show Crabbe that he could touch his toes. And then with a sickening crack, his pants split right in half on his tush."  
  
Harry tried to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing at other's misfortunes as he asked: " Anything else?"  
  
" I heard Cho and Rebecca talking." Peeves said, after a while. "Nothing much, just girl talk. I hate listening to them."  
  
" So you don't remember what they said, in other words?" Harry prompted.  
  
" Cho mentioned you. She said you look handsome. Then they giggled, and Rebecca seemed to be disgusted with Cho's opinion." Peeves shrugged. " Can't blame her."  
  
"Hey! I didn't come here to get insulted, I came here to find out a few answers." Harry crossed his arms.  
  
" I don't think I heard any other things about Draco or Rebecca. They're staying away from each other." Peeves suddenly said: " Oh, Harry, I'm kind of fond of you. Don't open the Potions classroom door."  
  
" Why?" Harry wondered.  
  
Just then, a scream echoed through the hallway. Harry turned and saw Snape, with a bucket on his head, his eyes piercing and angry. "PEEVES!" Snape shrieked.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry sat outside in the stands, staring at how the dry leaves rolled across the Quidditch field. His eyes stopped on a lone person moving towards Harry.  
  
Harry squinted to see in the glaring sunlight who was approaching. Only when the figure was close did he see it was Draco. Draco walked right past him, probably not going there to talk to Harry. He was heading for the distant end of the field, and he had his broom with him, so Harry figured Draco wanted to practice his Quidditch.  
  
Harry felt an odd bitterness still towards Draco, but seeing it was inhuman not to say anything to him, he called out: "Hi, Draco."  
  
Draco was stunned to hear what Harry had said. He turned, then said: "Hi, Harry."  
  
" Can I talk to you?" Harry said, after a while. He figured if there was one person who'd know what Rebecca was up to, it was Draco. Harry knew he was risking a lot by asking, since Draco could just as well turn around and then run to Rebecca, squealing that Harry is catching on to Rebecca's evil plans, whatever they were.  
  
Draco didn't seem to know what to reply. His eyes scanned Harry uncertainly, then the icy blues met with the forest greens and he drawled: " Alright. For a while."  
  
He sat down a good five feet away from Harry, just enough distance to keep from feeling too strange.  
  
" I have to ask you a few things." Harry began.  
  
" If it's about the frog in Neville's shoe, I swear I didn't put it there." Draco began a protest.  
  
" It's not that!" Harry laughed, then grew stern. " Hmm. . . I'll get back to you on the frog thing."  
  
Draco realized he'd given himself away and his eyes moved from Harry and back onto the Quidditch field. Never had the chipping red paint on the left-hand side of one of the Quidditch goal poles been so interesting.  
  
" I'm sort of wondering what Rebecca is up to. She's been acting sort of. . . weird. Don't you think?" Harry asked, trying to get Draco to at least say something other then the occasional murmur he'd give Harry when Harry had tried to converse with him before.  
  
Draco's shoulders moved up and down in a shrug.  
  
" You've gone out with her for a while. You gotta know SOMETHING, for Heaven's sakes." Harry muttered.  
  
" That isn't your business, is it?" Draco's freezing-cold words stopped Harry from being on a roll with his questions.  
  
" It's only a friendly question." Harry told him.  
  
" You can stick your friendliness up your. . ." Draco was stopped by a sudden violent gust of wind. A leaf managed to come and slap him across the face.  
  
Harry didn't know whether he should laugh or be offended. Finally, he continued the mild interrogation: "Well, Malfoy, there's no need for any profanity." He said, softly.  
  
" Is that so? I can add quite a bit, if you don't mind." Draco's eyes turned into cold slits. He obviously didn't want to speak of Rebecca beside Harry.  
  
Harry didn't know what to say. Obviously, Draco didn't want to talk any longer. Harry thought hard before saying: "Could you at least tell me if Rebecca's plotting anything bad against me, Hermione, or any of my friends?"  
  
" No." The answer shot from Draco's mouth quickly, then he seemed to grow a guilty look on his face and added, in an equally hurried tone: " I don't know."  
  
He looked down at his hands and then rubbed them together. It was cold, after all. Harry watched him curiously. Then, Draco stood, and said: " I'll be going. I have some better things to do with my time, Potter."  
  
It wasn't Harry anymore, this time he was back to calling him Potter. Perhaps the mentioning of Rebecca to him didn't bring up too much of a friendly chord inside of him.  
  
Harry realized it was no use talking to Draco Malfoy, anyhow, and he began the solitary walk back towards Hogwarts.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Professor McGonagall was standing, as usual, just beside her classroom. Her eyes, stern and waiting, stopped on Harry Potter. The boy looked to be in deep thought, and as he stepped through the doorway and into Hogwarts, she noted how he stumbled on the top step, then cursed slightly and kept going. He must have been very distracted by something.  
  
Professor McGonagall's eyes flashed with thought. Perhaps it was something to do with Hermione! She, herself, had spoken with Hermione and she noticed that Hermione liked Harry a lot, and perhaps crossing into the threshold and into where they could be more then friends.  
  
Being a teacher and full of other duties, Professor McGonagall rarely took much interest into the affairs of her students outside of school. She seemed most interested in Harry's affairs, though, out of all the students. And perhaps Fred and George Weasley's affairs, since they seemed hell-bent on creating mischief.  
  
" Harry?" Professor McGonagall spoke, just as the boy passed her.  
  
" Oh, hello, Professor." Harry turned to her, and then thought: 'What could she possibly want? It's a Sunday.'  
  
" I see something's troubling you. Would you like to talk about it?" The professor seemed genuinely concerned, which surprised Harry. He hadn't really thought that teachers had much of a life outside of school before. Then again, Hogwarts was an odd place anyhow.  
  
Harry remembered how Dudley once told him about the teachers in Dudley's school. Dudley had mostly complaints, and since this conversation with Dudley had been a good eight years ago, it was also full of fictitious beliefs that little children might have. Dudley had explained whole- heartedly to Harry that teachers lived in school and that they ate from the lunchroom, they used the school bathrooms, and the huge cupboards in each room could be opened and one of those pull-out beds appeared. Harry didn't really believe this, since he figured Dudley would always pull his leg anyhow.  
  
" It's not much." Harry replied. " I'm just thinking."  
  
" It seems like it's a lot to me." Professor McGonagall said in a voice prompting to hear more.  
  
" It's just. . . so much is happening." Harry began. " I hate having too many changes. I just want to be a normal kid. Then when I was eleven the whole entire world pretty much changed for me. And since then, there's been so much happening, so many twists and turns. It's really quite tiresome after a while." Harry stopped and looked up at the professor's face. She seemed to be taking it seriously so far.  
  
" Change is good, Harry." Professor McGonagall replied. " You shouldn't worry so much and be more acceptant of what happens."  
  
" That's sound advice, and all, but I don't think that things should change so fast for me, anyhow." Harry said this opinion with a sad face. Then, he remembered some of the good changes - him and Hermione getting together, seeing how girls seemed to like him a lot more these days. He added: " I think I see your point, a bit."  
  
" Good." Professor McGonagall and Harry were now before the dining hall, in which dinner was just being served for the students that felt hungry. Harry smiled at professor McGonagall and told her: " Thank you, for the talk."  
  
" Harry, I have a question, though. What changes do you mean? I don't think much happened to you this year." She suddenly looked upset. " Other then with your owl - dreadfully sorry to bring that up."  
  
" It's alright." Harry said, quickly, then realized people still thought Hedgwig was dead. Maybe it was for the better, since then Rebecca won't try to go after the real Hedgwig. " Well, some of the things that are changing too fast - well, me being captain and all. It's really hard."  
  
" But you're doing a great job!" The Professor replied. "Gryffindor is happily winning every match."  
  
" Yeah, I guess." Harry grinned slightly. " We're up with Slytherin again in two weeks, at the next game, you know. I hope Malfoy doesn't kill me if his team loses against me again. He hates losing."  
  
" Draco's a tough spirit." Professor McGonagall smiled. " I think he's a good person deep inside."  
  
" Real deep inside." Harry said, and the professor laughed. Then, she patted Harry's shoulder and said:  
  
" I'll let you be, then, Harry. I have to speak with a certain Fred Weasley." She didn't look too happy with that.  
  
Harry smiled and waved her goodbye, then walked into the dining hall for his dinner, as well. Not many people were there, including Hermione. She must have still been up in the library. Hermione was really trying hard to find things on the Whitescales, since she believed that there was something even more to do with them that Voldemort chose these creatures.  
  
If she only knew that Voldemort already had an English Whitescale! Harry still battled deep in his mind whether he should break his promise to Ron and keep his promise to Hermione, or keep his promise to Ron and break his promise to Hermione. It was an awful choice and he wished he didn't have to make it.  
  
Harry sat down beside Ron, and Ron turned to him and exclaimed: "Harry! I can't believe you're here."  
  
" Why wouldn't I be?" Harry asked.  
  
" I figured you'll spend dinner kissing with Hermione, like last time." Ron teased, and then laughed. Nick Chang from across the table also laughed, then Nick added:  
  
" So when's the wedding?"  
  
Harry's ears felt as if on fire as he said: " You guys!"  
  
Nick laughed again, then turned to another first year named Patrick O'Connor, who was leading an avid conversation with others his age about the upcoming Quidditch match for Gryffindor, against Slytherin.  
  
Ron, meanwhile, had his own conversation with Harry: "You know, Harry, I think that something is genuinely wrong with Charlie."  
  
" Why? What's happened to him?" Harry asked, concerned.  
  
" His scar is bleeding really bad now. He's in a hospital." Ron said, his voice low so nobody else could hear.  
  
" That's terrible!" Harry exclaimed. " Can't they stop the blood flow?"  
  
" It won't cease. In fact, it's getting more and more severe. The doctors can't even explain it. We had the best wizard doctor in England come to check him out, and even he can't explain it. And the problem is, the Ministry of Magic is still dragging the case really slowly. They are all debating over whether to zap the scar off or to save it as evidence." Ron looked mad. " My dad is having a hell of a time trying to get things to go in favor of our family, not in favor of the Ministry."  
  
" Man." Harry sighed. " If they save the scar any longer, then it'll be Charlie that'll need saving."  
  
" I know." Ron sighed. " I only hope that. . ."  
  
Just then, Cho tapped Harry's shoulder, much to Harry's amazement. He turned to look at her, and she grinned. "Hi, Harry." Cho said, and then sat down beside him. " Can I talk to you?"  
  
" Uh. . . sure." Harry said.  
  
" Not here, though. Maybe more in private." Cho's cheeks flushed.  
  
Harry didn't know what to say. He scanned the faces of the kids around him to see what he should do, and Ron pushed him up to his feet. "Go, Harry. Can't keep a pretty girl waiting."  
  
Cho blushed even deeper, and then assured Harry: " It won't be long."  
  
Harry followed her outside of the dining hall, and when they were standing out in the hallway, he told him: " Harry, I need you to do something for me."  
  
" What?" Harry asked her.  
  
" Kind of avoid Rebecca." She looked nervous as she said it.  
  
" I'm already trying to. Why?" Harry questioned.  
  
" She's really mad about how you beat her team. She's not really a good sport, or whatever." Cho looked down at her pink fingernails, then added: " I don't want her to yell at you or something. She might get sort of in a cat fight mood if you catch her on a worse day."  
  
" Oh." Harry smiled, knowing that getting YELLED at by Rebecca was the least of his worries. " Uh, I have a question for you, Cho."  
  
" What is it?" She asked, her brown eyes sparkling suddenly.  
  
Harry hoped that she didn't think he was going to ask her something personal. He simply said: " Does Rebecca ever mention me in conversation at all?"  
  
Cho looked thoughtful for a minute, then said: " Not really. It's sort of a woman's intuition, knowing she might be mad at you."  
  
" Did she, perhaps, say something like 'Say, I think I'd like to go kill Harry'?" Harry asked.  
  
" Why on EARTH would she say that?" Cho's eyes widened, and she looked really quizzical now.  
  
Harry replied, innocently: " I dunno."  
  
Cho raised her eyebrows and said: " I don't think Rebecca would do something THAT mean, Harry."  
  
" I guess you're right. Well, thanks for the warning." Harry told her, and then added: " Have a nice Sunday."  
  
" You too." Cho replied, and then Harry went back into the dining hall.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry went up to the owlery that very evening, around eight at night, to check on Hedgwig. Hedgwig's wing had been healing well and he hoped he could try her out for another test flight today. As he slowly opened the heavy oak door to the owlery, he heard someone bustling around inside.  
  
Harry's breath caught inside his throat and he peeked with one eye at the person inside the owlery.  
  
It was Rebecca.  
  
She was tying something onto the leg of her own owl, which was a short stocky one with brown feathers, tipped with black. This owl had a nasty look to it, and she talked to it as she gave him the letter:  
  
" So, ready for a nice flight? Remember vhere the bookstore is?"  
  
The owl hooted angrily, as if saying: 'Of course I remember! Do you think I'm stupid?'  
  
Harry slowly edged a bit more to the side of the owlery door, knowing that Rebecca was only a few feet away and might see him. From this position he observed as she suddenly dropped the letter. It fell face first just inches from the door.  
  
Rebecca turned, and Harry immediately moved his head from the little crack the doorway made. He saw from the corner of his eye that the letter, indeed, was directed to a bookstore.  
  
What would Rebecca want from a bookstore?  
  
Harry waited until Rebecca had picked up the letter again, and then he bolted away from the door, knowing that if Rebecca caught him there he wouldn't be too lucky. 


	11. Secret Ghost

A/N: I'll write Hedwig's name correctly from now on. I'm sorry for the error, it's just that in the Polish book I read it was spelled "HEDRZWIG!" So you see my problem, hard to translate that. It's kind of a habit to write Hedgwig though. Sorry if I mix it up still along the way. Oh, and thanks for the nice reviews so far. And I don't own these characters, and that goes for ch.10 since I didn't really say it for that chapter, though its obvious, I think. :o)  
  
1  
  
2  
  
3 Chapter 11  
  
Secret Ghost  
  
  
  
It was a beautiful desert, serene and shining golden in the noon sun. The sand was dry, crackling, gritty. Harry's hands ran through the golden grains as he looked around himself, in a blind panic. His scar was burning as if the flesh on his forehead was afire, and yet, he couldn't move his hands or legs to clutch at it, to see if making bodily contact with the infused area would soothe the pain. Harry's eyes squinted as the wind blew a soft wave of sand into his face. Then, a dry raspy voice filled his mind: "Come to me. Join me."  
  
Harry shivered and whispered: " No."  
  
The voice persisted, now in an urging tone, trying to be gentle but not succeeding: " Come to me. You can be great."  
  
" NO!" The shout emerged from Harry as quickly as the upcoming feeling of his body sinking.  
  
" Then you choose death." The voice reasoned.  
  
Harry tried to look down at what his body was doing but his eyes wouldn't obey him. They remained plastered to the figure standing before him, a dark velvet black cloak and two eerie eyes that seemed to penetrate his mind and into his very thoughts.  
  
Harry's body was sinking, sinking into unknown depths and he couldn't escape the wrath awaiting him. His fingers clawed as he tried to emerge out of the massive quicksand. The force sucked him down farther, pulling him, his fingers leaving deep ridges in the sand as he did.  
  
And all the while, the figure in the black velvet cloak laughed. Harry's eyes finally obeyed him and he caught sight of the figure's shoes - black with golden lacing. What did it mean!  
  
His fingers held desperately at anything to keep from sinking. The sun suddenly became unbearable, the gentle breeze became a violent gust, and the sinking sand beneath him became a maelstrom, sucking him down as if he were nothing at all.  
  
" No!" Harry's eyes shot open, taking in the room around him with a sudden surprised comfort.  
  
It had been a nightmare, a horrible one, but still only a nightmare. The sand at which he had clawed was simply the soft sheets of his bed, which he still held to with his balled-up hands. His knuckles had turned white, and he had slipped off his bed.  
  
Harry's finger ran over the scar on his forehead, and then he looked at the faces of the boys around him. They were awakened by his screams of "No!"  
  
Ron asked: " Harry, are you alright?"  
  
" Just. . . just a nightmare." Harry righted himself up from the floor, his head feeling a sudden heaviness, as the room seemed to tilt up to him. He was dizzy.  
  
Fred and George soon began to snore again, but Harry's friend, Ron, kept watching Harry with concern. Harry couldn't fall asleep again that night, either.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
It was a Monday, and as most Mondays go, Harry couldn't wait for it to be over. It was another week since he had seen Rebecca in the owlery, writing to the bookstore. Since then, he didn't see her with any books, and she didn't seem to be interested in him any longer.  
  
Snape's lesson was odd that day, and rather snappy and jumpy and sketchy. The professor hadn't put much care and time into preparing this lesson, obviously.  
  
When Harry walked in, Hermione following closely behind, her hands wrapped tightly around a new book she had dug up in the library on dragons in general - she was searching for the Whitescale in its 2,435 pages - and Ron walked into the room soon after.  
  
Harry's eyes took a while to adjust to the brightness in the room. Snape usually dimmed the lights and the entire room would end up being cast in spooky shadows, but today the room glowed. Candles floated all around the room, and a single huge glowing torch hung over Snape's desk, where he sat. Snape's hair was actually combed down a bit neater today and slicked back slightly, and there was a hint of cologne on him that Hermione caught as she walked by his desk.  
  
This was odd enough, but when the class began, Snape SMILED at his students. Then, he said: " Today we'll have a light lesson."  
  
" A light lesson?" Hermione scoffed from the side of Harry's shoulder. " He must be joking. That's not like him at all."  
  
Harry nodded. It wasn't like Snape. Snape's dark black eyebrows furrowed as he saw the disbelief on his student's faces. "Open your books!" He hissed.  
  
Books fluttered open.  
  
" Page seventy-eight, top right column." Snape adressed the classroom, then stopped beside Neville's desk. " Why, Mr. Longbottom. Why don't you have your book?"  
  
Neville's chin trembled, and he looked down at his cleared-off desk and said nothing. The room watched in stunned silence, expecting Snape to punish Neville in some odd, cruel way. Instead, Snape simply slapped his hand down on Neville's desk and said, struggling obviously with his own words: " Just. . . just bring it next time."  
  
Neville nodded.  
  
The room was never this quiet. Harry was worried that Hermione could hear his heart exploding with fear. Snape rarely acted this way, and something was either very wrong with Snape or he was simply so angry his mind malfunctioned.  
  
Snape's eyes slithered over onto Hermione, then looked past her at Harry. " Harry Potter."  
  
" Yes, sir?" Harry couldn't let his eyes meet with Professor Snape's.  
  
" You haven't opened your book."  
  
Snape was right. Harry had been too concerned with Neville's fate to open his own book. It lay closed beneath his folded hands. His fingers twitched and he immediately flipped open the book, but Snape froze Harry in place by saying:  
  
" I think I have a better idea. Why don't I go to Miss Thea's room and borrow a Potions book from her? I believe she might have a spare one." Snape's eyes seemed dull and glazed over in thought as he suddenly left the room.  
  
" Weird." Hermione whispered.  
  
" I know!" Ron exclaimed. " What's gotten into him?"  
  
" I don't think Thea would have a Potions book, she teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts." Lavender piped up.  
  
" Maybe he's so mad at her he'd flipped!" Ron said. " Maybe he went to kill her right this minute."  
  
" I doubt it. Then we'd all be witnesses." Hermione told Ron. "After all, we'd all seen him head for her classroom. It would just be too obvious if we find poor Miss Thea dead."  
  
" Then what does he want with her?" Harry wondered.  
  
Just then, Snape walked into the room again. He didn't have a book in his hand. He stopped halfway to the front of the room and then told Neville: " She didn't have one."  
  
Neville didn't look too surprised, but he still edged a bit away from Snape, who was standing so close to the poor boy's desk.  
  
" Now, class!" Snape stared at the room, his eyes examining the faces of the students in order. " Does everyone have their book open by now?"  
  
Harry had managed to find the right page.  
  
" Then it will be silent reading for the rest of the period." Snape went to sit at his desk again. Harry watched as Snape's fingers caught a delicate white flower that was on his desk for some odd reason (the rat skull he kept on his desk since the beginning of the year was replaced with the flower now), and he twirled the flower in his fingers.  
  
" Double weird." Harry told Hermione.  
  
" No talking." Snape said, more to himself, and then his eyes rested on the bud of the white flower.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Anyone who had Snape for a teacher that day couldn't stop remarking about how weird Snape was behaving. Harry himself couldn't understand it.  
  
It was lunchtime now and everyone was either eating or listening to Dumbledore's speech. Dumbledore was standing at the front of the room at the moment, after all, his great deep eyes glancing around the children's faces meaningfully, his long silver-white beard dangling low on his velvety robes: " Students!"  
  
Harry listened up.  
  
" I'm sure you are all aware of the upcoming Halloween! It is, after all, in just a bit under two weeks." Dumbledore checked around to see that the assembly before him knew what he was talking about, then continued: " We'll be having a bit of preparations going for this occasion. I'm sure you all know that there was never much of a hubbub about Halloween previously, but this year will be different."  
  
" Great." Colin murmured. He hated having these huge, special, once- in-a-lifetime things now since he no longer had his faithful camera with him to capture the moments. " Why does everything unique happen when I can't photograph it?"  
  
Dumbledore's speech continued: " Students who wish to help decorate the castle are welcome to add any decorations. They must be APPROPRIATE, though! No bloody hanging people or gore, mind you!"  
  
Draco snapped his fingers and said in a theatrical voice: "Aw, man." The Slytherin table laughed.  
  
" There will also be a new addition to the festivities. Other then the usual Halloween Ball, which had been in plan for a few weeks now, there will be a Secret Santa addition, though it will be called Secret Ghost for the Halloween Occasion." Dumbledore watched as a few students groaned. " It'll be fun!" Dumbledore added. " I always see the merry bunch of students having their bit of fun and pranks on Halloween. . ."  
  
Harry believed he saw Dumbledore look directly at Fred and George as he said this.  
  
" . . . But there are also those who end up just standing under the wall, sulking, having no fun at all." Dumbledore smiled. " I know that recent occurrences might have made some of us a bit depressed, but this festivity might be, shall I say, therapeutic. So, to give everyone something to be cheerful about this fall, I want every student to pick a name from this here cauldron."  
  
Hundreds of pairs of eyes stopped on a gigantic black cauldron overflowing with scraps of paper. Dumbledore continued:  
  
" Know this! Every student's name is in there, and if it is successful, every student will pick up a name. It will be even greater if in the end every student receives an appropriate gift. Now, we will be going to Hogsmeade again a few days before Halloween especially so some of us can get gifts, since I know not everyone has the abilities to craft homemade gifts."  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat and then looked at the Slytherin table, where a certain few people looked very unhappy with the idea of giving.  
  
Dumbledore continued, finally:  
  
" The teachers will also give Secret Ghost gifts to one another. Teacher's names are not in the pot, due to the fact that some students might think it is funny to give a nasty gift to their unfavorable teachers."  
  
Some students laughed, but Dumbledore looked so serious that the laughter slowly ebbed out.  
  
" Now, enjoy your lunch, and please pick up a name from the cauldron by the end of lunch."  
  
Harry felt Hermione's hand tangle into his and she pulled him to his feet. " Come on, Harry, let's get our names now and get it over with. I want to know who I'll be giving a gift to."  
  
They made their way to the front of the room, where a great amount of students were standing already. Harry heard Cho saying: " Oh! I got. . . who's this?"  
  
Rebecca looked at the name on her paper and then said: "Colin Creevey."  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile. Poor Colin would blush to death if Cho were to hand him a gift. Harry suspected that Colin had a bit of a crush on Cho now that Harry was over her.  
  
There was a great push as the students surged to get to the cauldron.  
  
" Take your time!" Professor McGonagall warned the students, for they looked ready to trample the cauldron and topple it over.  
  
Nearly-Headless Nick watched the raucaus from up above and shook his head. Harry looked up and waved to the ghost, and the ghost gave him a wave too.  
  
" Oh! I got Thomas Wigg!" Some first-year girl exclaimed.  
  
" Lucky!" Another first-year shouted.  
  
Harry couldn't help but laugh at that. He was finally pushed towards the pot and he grasped for a name. The papers slipped from his hands and he finally clutched one. He held it up to the light and his stomach dropped: Draco Malfoy.  
  
What would he get HIM?  
  
Hermione tapped his shoulder and shouted over the noise: "Who'd you get?"  
  
Harry showed her his paper and she sighed. " Aw, I'm sorry."  
  
" No, don't be. I'll get him a nice gift." Harry quickly said. He figured that perhaps Draco wouldn't yell at him or laugh if he gave him a gift.  
  
Hermione grabbed for a name as well, and she then showed Harry her paper: Dennis Creevey. She grinned. " I know just what to get him! Didn't he say he wanted one of those little broom stickers that shimmer and show an image of the owner?"  
  
" Yeah, I think that' what he wanted." Harry said. His mind still filled with thought of what to get Draco.  
  
Ron approached him just then. Harry had by now maneuvered his way out of the mass of people by the cauldron and stepped more to the side. Ron showed Harry his own paper, and said: "Guess who I got."  
  
" Who?" Harry looked at the paper: Rebecca Crick. " Oh, no."  
  
" How about you?" Ron's unhappy eyes focused on the name of Draco Malfoy which Harry held on his hand. " Oh, no for you too."  
  
" It's not that bad. I might find him something alright." Harry said, though he doubted it.  
  
" What will I get Rebecca? A mace or something, with the words: Use this on Harry?" Ron joked.  
  
" Now, remember, students, this is Secret Ghost, meaning you don't tell who you're giving a gift to!" Professor McGonagall shouted.  
  
" Too late." Hermione giggled.  
  
Harry laughed too but he knew he was in a bit of a pickle, since he had absolutely no idea of what to get Draco Malfoy. Perhaps Ron had it a bit easier, since every girl would like some makeup or perfume.  
  
But Draco. . .  
  
Maybe hair spray, or mousse, or something? But Draco would probably think Harry put something in it and be afraid to use it. And Harry had absolutely no idea of what Draco was interested in. He realized now he knew very little after all about Malfoy.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry was now in Thea's classroom. She was keeping her promise, and quite well, when it came to making class fun. Even Draco enjoyed her class. Harry believed that everyone was getting top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts, since everything Thea taught would stick in their minds.  
  
Thea smiled happily at the students in her room and said: "Did you all practice the spell I taught you yesterday?"  
  
The class nodded.  
  
" Good!" Thea wrote something down in her teacher's handbook, then told her students: " A perfect mark for the day, for each of my students. How about that?"  
  
Some people actually cheered.  
  
" Excellent!" Ron grinned.  
  
" Now, I need about, oh, four volunteers." Thea slid off her desk, since she was sitting on it the whole time. Her eyes scanned the room, which was full of raised hands.  
  
Harry's hand was up, too, but he knew he had a bit less of a chance to get picked now. Draco Malfoy's hand wasn't up, though, but Harry could see Draco would gladly volunteer as well. Harry knew that Draco wouldn't raise his hand though.  
  
Harry's mind went back to the Secret Ghost thing. What COULD he get Draco? There was little guesses and choices of gifts on his mind now, and he knew it will be a hard pick to make. Perhaps the trip to Hogsmeade would refresh his mind.  
  
" Neville, how about you?" Thea smiled at Neville. Neville nodded and stood up.  
  
Hands waved frantically in the air to get called on. Thea crossed her arms, her eyes twinkling. " How about. . . Hannah Abbot?"  
  
The pink-faced girl with long blonde pigtails raced up to the front of the room. A/N: she's in the first book, I didn't make her up.  
  
" Now, who can be next?" Thea smiled at Harry. " Harry, would you like to?"  
  
Harry was surprised and he nodded anyway. He suspected Thea favored him a bit, but he couldn't really understand why. Perhaps it was because he was THE famous Harry Potter or something like that.  
  
He watched as the last person was picked - Crabbe - and then the lesson began.  
  
Thea walked back and forth from one side of the room to the next, thinking. She paced for a while before saying: " I believe we can move on to the next lesson. You all seem ready."  
  
The class nodded along.  
  
" Well, today, we will simply practice deflecting the Solidifier - you know what that is, am I correct?" Thea looked around the class questioningly.  
  
Hermione called out: "Professor Snape taught us."  
  
" Snape had gone over quite a bit of material with you already, then." Thea smiled. " Well, then, I'm sure you know how to cast the spell by wand?"  
  
" No. Only by potion." A few students replied.  
  
" Goodness! I keep forgetting. Professor Snape only teaches you Potions." Thea put her hands in her pockets again. " In that case, you simply point your wand and shout: Solidify!"  
  
She smiled at the class. " It's quite simple." She added.  
  
Harry was to face Neville and Neville raised his wand nervously, not knowing how to cast it too well yet.  
  
Thea instructed her students: " You will all cast Solidifier spells at one another, and the other must deflect it with the words: Liquidius Deflectus." Thea continued after all the volunteers had raised their wands. " Please remember to keep the sleeves of your robes out of the way of the wand. You all remember what happened to Goyle's robes?"  
  
Harry remembered all too well. It still brought up a laugh in conversation - Goyle had tried to cast a spell but the sleeve of his robe got in the way. When he cast it, the entire sleeve turned into liquid and his clothing slowly began to melt away. If Thea hadn't caught it, then Goyle would have been standing before the classroom dressed the way he was when he was born - quite reasonably naked, in other words.  
  
Harry asked Neville: " Do you want to be the one deflecting the spell or should I be the one deflecting it?"  
  
" I'd prefer casting the Solidifier." Neville said.  
  
" Alright then." Harry prepared himself to deflect the spell as Neville shouted: "Solidify!"  
  
The spell shot out at Harry and Harry immediately brought his wand up before his face and deflected the spell with the words: " Liquidius Deflectus!"  
  
The two spells clashed in the air and then suddenly the spell was deflected and Neville turned into a completely solid form. Harry grinned and then tapped his wand on the stone Neville, casting the Liquefier spell.  
  
Because the Liquefier and Solidifier would cancel each other out if cast one after another, soon Neville was back to his old self, and Thea turned to the class and said:  
  
" I hope you all saw at least one of our volunteer pairs casting and deflecting the spell. Now I want you all to remember what you saw and try to practice it inside your mind so you're familiar with it. Whatever you do, don't just simply CAST it on one another, unless you wish to get in serious trouble." Thea then stopped speaking for Snape walked into the room.  
  
Snape's cheeks actually flushed as he spoke to Thea: " Uh, Miss Thea, uh. . ." Snape couldn't get the words out.  
  
" What is it?" Thea's eyebrows raised.  
  
" Are you SURE you don't have a spare Potions book?" Snape asked.  
  
Harry couldn't help but feel like laughing. Something was really wrong with Snape. How could Thea just magically have a Potions book when she didn't have one before?  
  
Thea replied, with a bit of a grin on her face: " No, Severus. Everything's about the same as an hour ago, when you asked."  
  
Snape murmured something about how he was sorry and quickly left the room. He still smelled nice, faintly of cologne, and perhaps something more. And Harry just noticed that Snape was wearing nice clean robes that actually seemed a bit more cheerful then the usual drab colors.  
  
Thea watched Snape leave, then her eyebrows raised and she turned back to the class. " Anyway. . . um. . ." She smiled. " What was I saying?"  
  
Hermione suddenly whispered: " Oh, brother. I can see what's going on."  
  
Harry couldn't, but he raised his hand and told Thea: " You were just telling us what our assignment was."  
  
" Was I?" Thea tapped her fingernails on her desk. "Well, make sure you practice what we went over in class. . . that's all. . ."  
  
The students slowly moved out of the class as it came to an end, and Hermione caught up with Harry. She told him: " Did you think up of what to get for Draco yet?"  
  
Harry shook his head. " I'm still stumped."  
  
" Bummer." Hermione sighed. " Well, I hope you find something. See ya." She separated from him just then, going her own way. Harry was left alone and wondering.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
That day, just as the sun had set, a group of students went to the dining hall to offer their help in decorating the school. It was looking nice already - the hallways sparkled in streamers, balloons, and color. Someone had hand-painted a large poster with a cheery-looking ghost, saying: "Happy Halloween!" Harry could see what Hermione had done - she, using her wand, had made a long carpet appear down the main hallway. On the carpet there was an intricate design of little dancing ghosts, pumpkins, and black cats. Harry couldn't help but marvel at it. Hermione had a way with difficult spells.  
  
Harry had volunteered to help hang streamers and to put up other ornaments. Neville was put on the committee of floating pumpkins - he was to cast spells on the jack o' lanterns so they'll float up above the dining hall.  
  
Professor McGonagall, herself, was awfully busy. She was at the moment yelling at some boy who had, instead of making a pumpkin float, given his best-friend moose antlers.  
  
Lavender was handing Harry the streamers as he put them up. She snipped them every few feet and then Harry would get off the large ladder he was using and move the ladder to the side to put up more. Suddenly, he got an idea.  
  
" Let's make this take a shorter time." He told Lavender.  
  
" How?" She asked.  
  
" Watch." Harry aimed his wand at the streamer roll. He said a spell that Hermione had taught him and it began to unravel and pin itself up to the wall, all on its own.  
  
The streamers then wound around little orange flowers that a girl named Susan Bones had helped make. These orange flowers, when pinned magically up along with the streamers, added a life to the room that would have taken a great deal of trouble and time otherwise to make.  
  
Dumbledore was instructing a group of girls on how to successfully roll up the tissue paper and make little orange flowers so that Harry could add more to the streamers.  
  
The whole entire process rolled smoothly.  
  
Suddenly, Harry was shocked to see Draco Malfoy. He was in the corner of the room, a brush in his hand, and a bucket of black paint in the other.  
  
" Hold on a second." Harry told Lavender.  
  
She nodded and then waited impatiently, hands on her hips.  
  
Harry made his way through the crowds towards Draco. Draco had something up on his mind - was he going to spill the black paint on the posters? Pour it on Neville? Ruin something else?  
  
Harry stopped in front of Draco. Draco looked up from the paint and said: " What?"  
  
" What're you doing?" Harry asked.  
  
" Helping." Draco replied, his pale eyebrows arching upwards. " Really, can't you mind your own business before I paint you a mustache?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. " Why on Earth would you be helping?"  
  
" Why not?" Draco kneeled down beside a huge group of posters at his feet. " I happen to have been instructed in the arts by a private tutor. Father wants me to be most acceptable."  
  
Harry watched as Draco filled in the outlines of a black cat with the paint. Harry couldn't help but still be suspicious. Draco didn't seem the kind to help. . .  
  
" Don't just stand there! Lavender needs your help, you know. She looks mad." Draco called over his shoulder at Harry.  
  
Harry turned to see Lavender, hands on hips, staring angrily at Harry. Harry gave her an apologetic smile, then said to Draco: "Sorry, it's just that I thought you were up to something."  
  
" Well, I'm not. I will be if you don't leave me alone." Draco looked up, his blue eyes not kidding at all.  
  
" Alright, alright, sorry." Harry moved away from Malfoy and then headed back to Lavender. She was now pinning up a whole new roll of orange streamers, and she didn't look too happy about it.  
  
" That color doesn't match." Harry told her.  
  
" I know." Lavender let go of the piece of pale yellow, which clashed horribly with the orange. " We're out of orange."  
  
" No problem." Harry searched the room for Hermione. She was now helping put up the black cat Draco had finished so that it could dry.  
  
Harry ran up to Hermione and said: " Come on, help us."  
  
He took her hand, and she followed him towards Lavender. Lavender looked at Hermione skeptically and asked: "What can she do?"  
  
" Herm, can you help us change the color of the streamers? I think you'd know a spell that would help us out." Harry asked.  
  
Hermione nodded, pulling up the sleeves of her robes. " I can do this. What color do you need?" She directed the question at Lavender.  
  
" Orange." Lavender replied. " To match the one already on the wall."  
  
" Orange." Hermione repeated. " Well, here goes nothing." She concentrated, then said a spell so quietly that Harry barely heard it. The streamers began to glow and then turned a rich orange color, perfectly identical to the one on the wall.  
  
" You're a genius! Thanks!" Harry exclaimed.  
  
" No problem." Hermione replied.  
  
Just then, an awful pain racked Harry's scar. He dropped the scissors in his hand and then grasped at the scar on his forehead. The pain rocketed through his a few times, then stopped.  
  
Hermione and Lavender were both staring at him in concern. "Harry, are you alright?" Lavender asked.  
  
" You should tell Dumbledore. Maybe it means something." Hermione added to Lavender's words.  
  
" It's alright. I have a headache. It's not my scar." Harry lied. He hoped this was true - the pain had gone away so quickly and left nary a trace of it, so he couldn't even be sure if it really even happened or not.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry sat at the extra desk in the common room, writing a list of things he could get Draco. Draco had mentioned he had art lessons- maybe he could get Draco some nice paints?  
  
But Draco was so rich, he probably had plenty of it. And besides, just because he had lessons in it didn't mean Draco liked to paint.  
  
Harry crossed the words 'Paints or other art supplies' from his list. Then, he read over the rest of it, which still included the paint supplies in it:  
  
**WHAT TO GET DRACO**  
  
--------------------------------  
  
~ Paint Supplies  
  
~ Something to do with Quidditch  
  
~ ?  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
It wasn't much. Harry knew himself that Draco didn't seem to have any obvious interests. Perhaps he could get him something less personal - something like candy, which every kid liked?  
  
Harry added 'Candy' to the list. He'd have to buy a whole lot of candy, though, to make up for the money it would take for an average present.  
  
" What else?" Harry asked himself, out loud.  
  
Fred and George were in the room, too, playing a game of chess against one another. Neither seemed to be winning, in fact, both seemed to be LOSING. They had each lost a great deal of game pieces.  
  
Fred's bishop had just wrestled George's knight off its horse and had begun to drag the knight off the board rather maliciously.  
  
George looked up from the game and said: " What are you writing, Harry?"  
  
" Secret Ghost ideas." Harry sighed.  
  
" Who do you have to get a gift for?" George asked.  
  
" Draco Malfoy." Harry replied.  
  
" Oy!" Both twins laughed.  
  
" I want to get him something decent." Harry looked at the list thoughtfully. "So far, I don't have much written down. I don't really know what to get someone like him."  
  
" How about a gun?" Fred suggested.  
  
" With a note: use this on yourself and think of me?" George laughed.  
  
" You guys!" Harry groaned.  
  
" I read that in a joke book." George added, seriously, so as not to take all the credit for the joke. He and Fred continued laughing.  
  
" I think I'd rather get him something less violent. I don't want him to get any ideas." Harry twirled his quill in his hands. " Maybe I can get him a book?"  
  
" Books stink." Fred said angrily as George's pawn demolished his queen. " Oh, drat! My QUEEN!"  
  
" Hah!" George grinned triumphantly.  
  
Harry realized the twins would be little help in his decision. Perhaps Hermione would think something up, she always had good ideas.  
  
A/N: I'm having a great Holiday, I hope everyone else is, too! 


	12. A lesson, A dragon Gone, and Hogsmeade

Author's Note: I don't own Harry Potter or anything in this fiction. Except the plot, maybe, and some of the original characters. Not much, though.  
  
1  
  
2 Chapter 12  
  
A Lesson, A dragon gone,  
  
and  
  
Hogsmeade  
  
  
  
The next day, lost between the commotion of Halloween and Secret Ghost, a certain black-haired boy walked silently across the Quidditch field, his broom tucked into his hand. His glasses were cloudy since he had just stepped out from the warm insides of the castle and was faced with the freezing-cold, shockingly fresh blast of fall air outside.  
  
The leaves crunched beneath his feet in a friendly-enough manner, and his green eyes smiled out gently at the world around him. He stopped, in the center of the Quidditch field, and then climbed unto his broom. He had about six days until his team played Slytherin and he knew he had to brush up on his flying.  
  
He swept his finger across the slightly concave inside of his glasses to clear away the fog and he then climbed onto the broom. With a gentle kick, he found himself soaring above the field, and was soon out of the reach of the trees and their flying leaves. Harry ducked over and under dancing swirls of leaves, and then spat out a red maple leaf from his mouth. He practiced ducking, then he tried to make a fast turn and then do a nose-dive. He rounded it out and soon found himself soaring upwards again, his eyes settled on the lovely soaring clouds. They were whiter then spun cotton candy and the blue sky behind them seemed like a sea on which these cotton candy ships sailed.  
  
He closed his eyes, enjoying the flight without much worry. Just as he readied to go back down after his practice, he found himself nearly skidding into Hermione. She was there, on her own broom.  
  
" Hey, Harry." She grinned.  
  
" Hi." He looked down at her on her broom, her robes spread over it so it was tucked backwards and rolled under the broom's end. " You're flying!"  
  
" Sure!" She floated up towards him. " It's quite perfectly easy. Madame Hooch taught me."  
  
" She taught you right." Harry complimented her.  
  
" How'd you do that nose-dive?" She asked.  
  
" Look." He brought his broom up higher, making sure that he had balanced himself up, then he suddenly pushed the tip of the broom down violently and it went down quickly and sharply. When he was about three feet from the ground, he jerked the nose of the broom upwards and he skidded sideways but managed it.  
  
" Wow!" Hermione began to go upwards in an attempt to make a nose- dive, too.  
  
" No! Don't!" Harry called after her.  
  
" Why?" She asked.  
  
" You're not ready. It took me half a year of practice, every day, to be able to do that smoothly. Not even Oliver Wood could do it as smoothly - he told me himself that it's only a one in ten chance that you won't tumble off your broom or skid when you pull out of the nose-dive, especially a sharp one." Harry lectured her.  
  
" I can manage it." Hermione made her broom upwards, and then she wobbled on it dangerously.  
  
" Herm - you're not ready." Harry repeated. " Come down."  
  
She was too high up. Harry had watched her lessons with Madame Hooch outside of Professor Trelawney's classroom window and he had to admit that she wasn't ready in the least bit yet. Madame Hooch didn't even allow Hermione to fly up more then ten or twelve feet from the ground, and now Hermione dangled a good forty feet up in the air.  
  
" Come down!" Harry said, exasperated.  
  
Hermione slowly tilted the front of her broom down and readied to kick off. " Harry, really, if you can do it, so can I."  
  
" You'll kill yourself!" He brought his broom upwards, ready to wrestle her off her broom (he knew that she'd probably let go if he tickled her, he had found out she was ticklish on her sides).  
  
" No, I won't." Hermione dived down with her broom. She was going too fast from too high an altitude. Anyone who had ridden a broom once in their life should know that when doing a nose-dive you have to pick up some speed and make a well-rounded dive, not a sharp V-dive. It was extremely dangerous.  
  
" Hermione!" He shouted after her, as her broom pummeled to the ground. She struggled to pull the front of it up but she couldn't, it was going with too much force.  
  
" Harry!" She cried out.  
  
He had never made his broom go as fast as he did just then. He had thought he might have gone fast after the Snitch, but now he was going so incredibly fast that the wind blew back his cheeks, his eyes widening as he wondered if he'd get to Hermione in time.  
  
" Hermione. . ." He cried out, grabbing the back of her hood just as the broom was less then ten feet from the ground. Her hands immediately let go of the broom, her fingers uncurling from the tight hold she had on the wooden handle.  
  
" Harry. . ." She whispered, pulling herself close to him.  
  
He pointed at her broom, which, after losing it's passenger, had bounced off the ground with its nose and then sailed across and slammed into a pole, then slid down. It hadn't broken, but if Hermione had been on it, her weight would have exploded the broom as well as her with it.  
  
Tears were in her eyes, he could see it. " I just wanted to be like you. . ." She whispered. " I thought. . ."  
  
" See, Hermione? I always knew you were stubborn, but that wasn't pure stubbornness. That was stupid." He brushed her hair from her face. " What if something had happened to you? I'd have never forgiven myself."  
  
" I'm sorry." She said.  
  
He wiped a tear from her cheek. " Why do you insist on knowing how to fly a broom. It's really not that great."  
  
" I thought you'd like me more if I'd be able to play Quidditch, just like you." She explained, pressing her face into his chest. He felt her wet tears, cold against his chest, through his shirt. He laughed.  
  
" If you played Quidditch then I'd go crazy with worry."  
  
She laughed too, then her eyes met with his again. Now that Harry had her uttermost attention, he told her, just as he brought the broom down to the ground: " Swear to me that you won't do something dangerous like that with your broom, ever again."  
  
Hermione smiled through her tears and said: " I swear."  
  
He kissed her. " Good." They were on the ground now, the broom held tightly in his left hand, his right still holding close to Hermione. " That was really stupid, alright."  
  
He rested his cheek on the top of her head.  
  
" I just thought I'd be able to. I calculated the force, and I tried to see whether the angle I was going to would balance with the acceleration, and when you take that into the same perspective as the work load on the broom. . ."  
  
He kissed the tip of her nose. " You can't calculate Quidditch, or broom-flying. There's really no scientific explanation. Stuff happens, you know."  
  
Hermione nodded, and then went to get her broom. Her fingers clutched the broom protectively and she said, softly: " Are you mad, now?"  
  
" Of course not." Harry smiled at her.  
  
" Good." She replied. " Because that was stupid of me, wasn't it?" Harry had never known Hermione to admit to something like that. She would have rather been force-fed poison, you'd think, then to admit she had done something stupid. But at this moment, she was utterly convinced her actions were stupid and she didn't deny it.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry had gone to visit Hagrid and Lisa again about half a week later, one Wednesday evening, just as the sun was setting. He wanted to speak with the tall, burly man and to ask them a few things about the English Whitescale.  
  
As he knocked on the door of the little cabin, he wondered if perhaps he shouldn't visit poor Hagrid and Lisa as much. Perhaps they would prefer having a bit of some 'alone' time as an engaged couple. Lisa didn't really live with Hagrid, actually, but she did come to his cabin more and more often.  
  
It had gotten hard for the students and faculty at Hogwarts not to notice the giant woman walking across Hogwarts grounds towards Hagrid's hut. Draco had laughed at Hagrid and said that he had finally gotten the pity of some female.  
  
Now Harry stood in silence before Hagrid's door, his mind filled with worry about whether he was intruding. Suddenly, he hard Hagrid call out: " It's open!"  
  
Harry wrapped his fingers around the cold metal handle of the door and then gently gave the door a push. It swung inwards into the room. The cold air drifted inwards, extinguishing the little candle on the table with a WHOOSH! Harry stepped inside the dark hut and then slowly shut the door behind him, cutting off the wind. Immediately, the curtains hanging over the window stopped rustling in the wind and the doilies on the table stopped fluttering.  
  
Hagrid was sitting at the table, and as Harry approached him, Hagrid suddenly lit the candle again. A warm glow filled the corner of the cabin.  
  
" Hagrid! You look sad." Harry inquired.  
  
" Yeh're right." Hagrid replied.  
  
" What's wrong?" Harry sat down on the bench-like seats beside the table. " It's not Lisa, is it?"  
  
" Not quite." Hagrid turned a tear-streaked cheek to Harry. "Somethin' yer not supposed to know about happened and I'm awful sad 'bout it."  
  
" Why am I not supposed to know about it?" Harry asked.  
  
" I can't say. Yer not supposed to know, after all." Hagrid said. "Nobody's supposed to know but me and Lisa."  
  
" Not another magical creature gone bad, right?" Harry asked.  
  
" Er. . ." Hagrid's eyes closed.  
  
" It is." Harry couldn't even try to guess. " I can't really even guess, now! What poor creature this time?"  
  
" Yeh'd better promise not to tell, Harry." Hagrid's black eyes looked meaningfully into Harry's.  
  
" I promise." Harry said.  
  
" In that case. . ." Hagrid leaned back. " Lisa and I'd tried to raise another dragon t'gether. Y'know, just for a pet."  
  
" Another dragon!" Harry exclaimed. " You should know better then that, Hagrid."  
  
" I know." Hagrid looked down at the kitchen table. A tear fell from his eye and splattered on the table. " What's worse is what happened to my poor Whitescale."  
  
" A Whitescale!" Harry exclaimed. " You had an English Whitescale?"  
  
" Sure. It's an acceptable breed an' all, Harry." Hagrid said.  
  
" How'd you get one!" Harry demanded.  
  
" Easily."  
  
" No, but what I mean is, how, exactly?" Harry leaned forwards on the table just as another giant tear fell from Hagrid's eye and splashed into the other one. A small puddle was forming on the tablecloth.  
  
" Well, it was like this. There'd been this man, yeh see. He was tall, huge fella. Stooped o'er, with about three or four eggs in a crate by his leg." Hagrid began. Harry could imagine a smoke-filled bar, with the tall man sitting in the corner of the room with dragon eggs beside his leg.  
  
" Hagrid, you know better by now then to buy dragons, and even better to buy them from a stranger."  
  
" Aw, but it wasn't a dragon egg. See, he also had a hatched dragon. Sold it ter me for real cheap, says they're mighty dangerous to own these days." Hagrid looked thoughtful. "Don't know what 'e meant by that."  
  
" More the reason to stay away from weirdoes like that." Harry warned.  
  
" I know, I know, Harry!" Hagrid sighed.  
  
" Well, do go on, now that you're warmed up to the idea of talking about it." Harry prompted Hagrid to go on.  
  
" Gulpin' Gargoyles, did that little thing squeal. I couldn't keep it 'ere! Someone could've 'eard it, eh?" Hagrid stopped to wipe off the puddle of tears on the table with his sleeve.  
  
" No, I suppose not." Harry said, softly.  
  
" That's right." Hagrid tapped his fingers gently on the table. "So, Lisa took the li'l thing. She kept it quiet, fed it, cared fo' it. It grew up, our li'l baby." Hagrid's back heaved as he let out a sob. "An' . . . an'. . . an' then!"  
  
" You can stop if you'd like." Harry told him.  
  
" Naw, I ought ter keep goin', now that I started an' all." Hagrid sniffled and another tear fell to the table. " Someone went an' stole'd 'im. Lisa'd watch 'im all the time, but for some reason or 'nother, someone found 'im out and stole'd 'im."  
  
" Why'd someone steal the poor thing?" Harry asked. Suddenly, he wished it wasn't Voldemort. But Voldemort wouldn't just go out and take a stroll by Lisa's house, peek in the window like some sort of peeping Tom, and then go: "By Jove! They got a Whitescale in there!"  
  
Whoever sold the dragon to Hagrid must have known Hagrid would take care of it; stupidly, yes, but still take good care for it. And then, once the time had come, the person would then take the dragon back.  
  
" But. . . the dragon has to be a hundred to come to any magical use." Harry whispered.  
  
" What's that, Harry?" Hagrid looked up from a massive handkerchief, which was rather odd-looking, with unequal corners in it, and it was obviously made by Lisa since she'd stitched her initials in one of the corners, and Hagrid's initials in the other corner.  
  
" Nothing." Harry replied. " I'm really sorry, Hagrid. I'm sure you'll find something new - maybe some blast-ended skrewts?" Harry knew it was nothing too exciting for Hagrid, but he could always hope.  
  
" Blast-ended skrewts." Hagrid shook his head. " I'm tired o' them."  
  
" Well, I gotta go, it's getting real dark and if McGonagall catches me she'll take off a great many points from Gryffindor." Harry said. " I hope you feel better."  
  
Hagrid smiled and then hugged him, and then finally let Harry go. Harry's mind filled with worry, since he knew that now he promised Hagrid he won't tell about what happened either. So he had a promise with Ron in which he would be going against Hermione's promise to tell her everything, he had a promise with Hagrid going against his promise with Hermione, and a promise with Hermione going against what Ron's and Hagrid's promise said. There was a horrible feeling inside of his stomach, since he wished he'd never made any of those promises.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The day had come when the students were to go to Hogsmeade again. It was a joyous day, since it was, after all, almost Halloween. Harry still had no idea of what to get Draco. He hadn't taken any of Fred and George Weasley's suggestions into consideration, since most of them revolved in gifts that would produce harm to Draco.  
  
Harry had just finished dressing himself for the trip, and since the cold of fall was taking in full bloom, Harry knew he'd have to make sure he's dressed warmly.  
  
There was a soft ache inside Harry's scar as he pulled on a sweater. His glasses slid down, pulled by the woven collar. He sighed and pushed them back up.  
  
Then, a twinge in his scar sent him up to his feet, staring into the mirror. The twinge was gone, but as he peered in the mirror he saw something behind him, moving up towards him, perhaps even breathing heavily, ruffling the hair on his head.  
  
" Oh, my God!" Harry spun around, ready for any karate action necessary. His frightened eyes met with the laughing face of Hermione.  
  
" Frightened you, didn't I!" She laughed, and then said: "Hurry up, Ron and Neville are waiting for you outside. They sent me to get you, they figured if anyone will yank you away from your bed it's me and my wand." She twirled her wand in the air. " I must say I'm disappointed. I could have done that new spell I learned - it's supposed to pummel a couch potato clear off it's couch."  
  
" Sounds nice." Harry ran his fingers through his hair, trying not to sound as if he had just been frightened half to death.  
  
Hermione laughed and then pushed him towards the door. "Let's go!"  
  
Harry was forced out into the hallway, and he greeted Neville and Ron. " Hi, guys."  
  
Ron held up a small pouch of coins. A little bronze Knut tumbled out and rolled to Harry's feet. " Get that for me, will you? I took all my allowance, since I have absolutely no idea what girl's things cost, and that's exactly what I'm buying Rebecca."  
  
Harry turned to Neville. " Who're you buying a gift for?"  
  
Neville held a little paper up. " Hannah Abbot." Harry remembered the blonde-haired, pink-faced girl from Defense Against the Dark Arts and he realized what a great couple she and Neville would be.  
  
" That's pretty cool! Any ideas of what you'll get her?" Harry asked.  
  
" None." Neville held up his hands in desperation. " I actually forgot all about Secret Ghost until about an hour ago. You wouldn't believe how hard I had to search our common room for this little paper." He held it up triumphantly.  
  
" Well, good luck." Harry patted his shoulder.  
  
" And you're the Secret Ghost for Malfoy, right?" Ron asked.  
  
" Yeah." Harry tried to sound cheerful. " I'm still wondering about what to get him. Do you think that it would be alright with him if I got him candy?"  
  
" Maybe he'll think that you want to get him fat or something." Neville said, softly.  
  
" He's sort of hard to buy for, isn't he?" Hermione asked.  
  
" I thought that perhaps you'd help me find something." Harry told her.  
  
" I'd love to help, but I really have my hands full trying to find one of those expensive sticker-things for Dennis. Ron, you wouldn't have any idea of where to find one, now, would you?" Hermione turned to the red- haired boy.  
  
" None whatsoever." Ron replied.  
  
" Secret Ghost isn't turning out too fun." Harry said, ominously.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Hogsmeade stood, waiting, welcoming the Hogwarts students like an old man, with open arms, gathering children around him for a story-tale to tell. Harry could never have enough of the warm glowing windows, yellow- soft in the candlelight. Reflections danced inside his dark pupils as his gaze ventured from one shop window to another.  
  
He saw the shop in which he bought Hermione her two rings. She still wore them, proudly, one on each hand, and from the jealous gazes she got from Lavender and Parvati, he knew the rings were nice.  
  
Hermione turned to Harry and said: " Let's stop here. I might find that weird sticker for Dennis in here."  
  
" Alright. Let me tell Ron we're stopping here." Harry passed Hermione and then stopped Ron, who was traveling with Neville and Colin Creevey. Harry excused Ron from the company he held and then said: "Ron, we're stopping right over there. Wanna come with us?"  
  
" Who's us?" Ron asked.  
  
" Just me and Hermione." Harry replied.  
  
Ron's face seemed to stiffen. " You can go ahead. I'll stay with these guys." Ron said, then turned to Colin, who was just moaning over how he missed the zoom function on his camera.  
  
" Oh. Well, see you." Harry called after Ron.  
  
He returned to Hermione and said: " Ron's going someplace else. I figure that he'd stick with Neville and Colin, they're all buying gifts for girls, and so they're probably heading for the same location."  
  
" Yeah." Hermione and Harry walked into the familiar old shop and the bells on the door rang cheerily. The bells were new and the song they played was very cheery and at the same time a bit spooky, perfect for Halloween.  
  
The old man at the counter smiled, and said: " Well! Welcome back, Harry Potter and Hermione. More rings to buy for the pretty lady?"  
  
Hermione blushed and said: " We're here to buy gifts for the Secret Ghost game in Hogwarts. It's a rendition of Secret Santa."  
  
" Ah! I have a whole new box of odds and ends, right here." The man ducked beneath the counter and reappeared with a heaping box filled with, indeed, trinkets and odds and ends.  
  
" This stuff is marvelous!" Hermione exclaimed, flipping through them. A beautiful quill pen with a fluffy pink feather was tossed aside, a sack of marbles with miniature portraits in each clattered to the bottom of the box as she searched more.  
  
Then, her eyes stopped on a little holographic sticker. It had a picture on it of a boy on a broom. The boy zoomed across the picture, then turned and zoomed back. On the bottom, it said to write in a name.  
  
Hermione looked up at the man and he nodded his approval. She took the quill from the box and wrote in: Dennis, right into the given space.  
  
Harry and Hermione both watched in surprise as the word 'Dennis' flew across the little hologram picture, in 3 dimensional letters. Then, it seemed to disappear into the picture. Just as it seemed the 'show' was over, it began again, with more little 'Dennises' flying around.  
  
Harry laughed and said: "This is perfect!"  
  
" How much?" Hermione asked.  
  
" Hmm. . . twenty Knuts." The man said, after a while of thought. " It's been marked for twenty-five, you know, but nobody's buying it."  
  
" I'll take it. And this feather quill - it's lovely." Hermione smiled. " How much for the feather quill?"  
  
The man smiled and said: " Ten Knuts."  
  
" Great! I have exactly enough." Hermione laid out thirty-five shining bronze Knuts on the counter. Harry busied himself with the other oddities in the box. His hand stopped on a white teddy bear, which heavily reminded him of Malfoy. Other then the fact it was pale-white, with two blue buttons sewed on for eyes and a stern little pink dash of thread for the mouth.  
  
Harry put the teddy bear aside and kept searching. His fingers skimmed the glass surface of a little deer made of sheen light blue glass in which tiny bubbles were captured. He looked at it for a moment, then put it aside as well.  
  
He searched for a while through the little things, then said: "No, enough."  
  
" Can't find anything?" Hermione asked.  
  
" Nope." Harry leaned on the counter with his elbows. " I don't think I'll ever find something for Draco. I'll have to go with the bag of candy."  
  
Just as he leaned on the counter, the box moved forwards and a little parcel fell out from the crack on the bottom. It spilled at his feet. Harry dropped to his knees right away, his fingers picking through the things on the floor. It was something wrapped in hay, and very ancient-looking. His fingers finally found the object hidden inside - a beautiful diary/journal. It was very old, he could see that right away. The cover was the finest cow leather and thicker then the dragon hide gloves Harry had used when mixing deadly Potions in Snape's class. Into the black leather, in a golden thread, the fancy curlicue following word was stitched: 'Me'. Simply, those two little letters, yet it had such a powerful meaning and impact that Harry's fingers instinctually opened the well-bound cover.  
  
His thumb was held with the little binding, which was simply a thinner strap of leather held down on both sides with a shiny golden snap. The pages inside weren't girlish at all. In fact, it was a strictly boy's journal, with crisp fresh pages smelling strongly still of bleached cedar wood. The thin blue lines across the pages were lined up well, along which there was enough space to write anything someone would like.  
  
" This is perfect!" Harry stood up, one hand holding the journal and the other holding a handful of straw. " This is absolutely perfect!"  
  
" What is?" Hermione leaned over his shoulder, her chin poking into his collarbone as he did, and she gasped out:  
  
"Wow!"  
  
He turned to show it to her, saying: " Isn't it great?"  
  
" Yeah!" She agreed, gently tracing the word 'Me' on the cover. She looked up, her eyes meeting with Harry's, and said: " This will be perfect for Draco. He needs something to speak with. The only people he really opens up to, I bet, is his little sidekicks, Crabbe and Goyle. I bet he could use having a confidante like this."  
  
" How much would this be?" Harry asked the man.  
  
" That's a mighty expensive journal, Harry." The man said. "It's a good two hundred years old."  
  
" Then it'll be. . .?" Harry ventured.  
  
" I'd say about two Galleons." The man said.  
  
" Harry, that's a fortune! You could buy a good five years of newspapers with that!" Hermione said into Harry's ear.  
  
Newspapers were, after all, five Knuts. Twenty-nine Knuts made up the silver Sickles, and seventeen Sickles made up a Galleon. It was a fortune, indeed, to kids their age.  
  
" I'll take it." Harry took out a small satchel of money that he had in his pocket and took out two Galleons. " I think that'd be enough?"  
  
" Yes." The man grinned. " Thank you, kindly, for your business." He smiled even wider. " I can feed my cats now, you see."  
  
Harry heard the mewling of cats the moment he entered the store. Now he thought out loud: " How many cats could there be?"  
  
" I feed about twenty-six cats." The man said.  
  
" Twenty-six!" Hermione's eyes widened.  
  
" Someone's got to feed them." The man replied, and then patted the hands of Hermione's. " I'll see you young ones some other time, then?"  
  
" Sure. Well, good bye! Happy Halloween!" Harry and Hermione left the store, smiling, knowing that they'd found the perfect gifts already.  
  
Things were looking bright for Harry Potter again.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry had made his way back to Hogwarts later that day. He caught up with Ron, Neville, and Colin at the doors. Neville stammered out, eyes full of wonder: "We found this awful store, full of pink and frilly things and ribbons and. . . ugh, it's too painful too explain."  
  
" Did you buy your Secret Ghost gifts?" Harry asked them.  
  
" Yep." They all raised a bag stuffed with frilly, pink, and abnormally girly things.  
  
" I wonder what we're all going to get, and from whom!" Harry said, aloud.  
  
" Same here." Neville murmured. " With just my luck, my name could've not been picked."  
  
" Is that even possible?" Harry asked.  
  
" Who knows!" Hermione laughed. " Dumbledore isn't saying anything at all. He had written down everyone and whom they're giving a gift to and then who is giving THEM a gift. It's a massive chart and he rolled it up, just this thick huge scroll he carries with him everywhere. He asked me twice already to double-check if he wrote down my Secret Ghost person right."  
  
" He didn't ask me." Harry murmured.  
  
" Dumbledore used a spell to find these things out. The cauldron was charmed, didn't you see? It watched who's hand went in and then it noted what scrap of paper came out." Hermione said.  
  
" I wonder who Draco's getting a gift for?" Colin spoke up.  
  
" Hah! I'd feel bad for whomever it was that's getting his gift! It's probably poison or something!" Ron laughed.  
  
" Hey! Shut up!" Draco was walking by just then and heard that bit of their conversation. Draco's face was flushed with embarrassment and Harry suddenly felt horrible for him. Draco was storming off, the tops of his ears an odd maroon color, when Ron suddenly called after him:  
  
" Sorry."  
  
Draco turned around, his blue eyes ready to melt snow, and said: "Don't be. If you said it, you meant it."  
  
There was a stunned silence as they all watched Draco storm into Hogwarts castle. Then, Neville said, quietly: " Wow. So he does have feelings."  
  
A/N: Poor Draco. My favorite character. **sniff** Perhaps you noticed the coincidence of Harry and Ron getting the names they had from the cauldron. The reason for getting these names comes in the next chapter. (Hint: a certain spell was put on the cauldron, just to make sure everyone gets a gift, and this spell influenced who gives what gift.)  
  
Oh, yes. . .  
  
A/N: Did you read this far? Do you care for the author's feelings? If you answered yes to these questions, send a 100 dollars to the author and. . . no, no, just kidding. Actually all I want from my lovable audience is to read this one Harry Potter poem I wrote called 'The Treat'. It's by me and it's funny, it really is! You can even flame me if you hate it very much, I'd just like some reviews. O great I'll be quiet and start up ch. 13 before I start groveling. ::Puppy Dog Eyes:: 


	13. Halloween

A/N: Nope, not mine, not at all, not in the least tiniest bit. Warner Brothers, J. K. Rowling, and whoever else, owns these characters and stuff. I'm just borrowing them off the dusty old shelf and putting it to some use for the fans before the real book 5 comes out. How about that.  
  
1 Chapter 13  
  
Halloween  
  
  
  
With a sweep of orange marbles and black jacks, fall swept out Halloween, as playfully as if it were all a simple and easy game. November was a day away and the Halloween ball was just beginning, with Harry Potter and Hermione walking down the hall in their dance clothes, ready for a great night.  
  
Harry, of course, held in his hand the journal, wrapped in some nice gift-wrap that Fred and George Weasley given him (for once, it was a decent addition to Harry's quest for a perfect gift). The gift-wrap was colorful and cheery, and Harry wondered if Draco would like it.  
  
' Why wouldn't he!' Harry's mind exploded hotly. 'He's a normal guy, maybe a bit withdrawn and spooky, but hey!'  
  
So having decided on it that way, Harry took Hermione's hand and they waltzed happily into the dining hall. The festive decorating hadn't gone unnoticed - everyone's faces glowed happily under the floating jack o' lanterns.  
  
Neville was explaining hotly to his perfect match, Hannah Abbot: " See that one? That's the one I made float!" His voice overflowed with pride, and Harry reasoned that he had something to be proud of, indeed. Neville rarely got spells right, so this was quite an accomplishment.  
  
Cho Chang was commenting to her little cousin, Nick, about how the cat posters on the wall seemed almost real, ready to hop out of the pictures and rub around their legs. She asked Nick: "Do you know who made these? They're pure brilliant."  
  
Nick shook his head.  
  
" I bet Harry Potter might have done this." Cho said, thoughtfully. Harry couldn't help but laugh at that.  
  
" What're you laughing about?" Hermione asked him.  
  
Harry didn't feel like explaining, so he said: " Just something I remembered."  
  
" Oh." She hugged his arm closer to her side.  
  
They found a nice seat in the corner of the room, where they could sit and talk about the things that had come to be and that might come. Hermione stared the whole time into Harry's eyes, and Harry stared into hers. There was nobody in the room but them, according to the two's intent gaze at one another as they spoke.  
  
Draco Malfoy had walked into the room, as well. He carried a gift with him. It was small and wrapped tightly, and he seemed nervous as he held it, as if it were to explode in his hands any second. Harry knew it was unlike Draco to give gifts all of a sudden, so he smiled at that.  
  
Hermione suddenly said: " Harry, you know what? Something tells me that the pot had been a bit, um, tapped. In choosing people to buy gifts for whom, so you know."  
  
" How's that?" Harry asked.  
  
" Well, I think everyone got to give a gift to the person they're least likely to give a gift to." Hermione explained. "That's the spell on it, I think. I've noticed that by now."  
  
" How so?" Harry seemed bemused. He didn't really think this was so.  
  
" I've taken notice on who gives whom a gift. See, I'd have never thought of giving Dennis a gift. Ever. Now, you probably would have never in your right mind given Draco a gift, am I right?" Hermione asked.  
  
" Right."  
  
" Neville, for sure, would have never gotten the nerve up to give Hannah a gift - he likes her a lot, didn't you notice?" Hermione asked.  
  
" Uh. . . yeah." Harry didn't notice.  
  
" Colin wouldn't give Cho a gift, he'd be too scared that she'd laugh at him or something. You know how it is, with boys liking an older, more popular girl." Hermione looked at Harry knowingly.  
  
Harry blushed at the memory of his crush at Cho. It felt so stupid now! He murmured: " Yeah."  
  
" Now, Ron would not give Rebecca Crick a gift. He'd be repulsed beyond his mind, in fact, with even looking at her. He's scared out of his wits by Rebecca. You do notice that, don't you?" Hermione questioned.  
  
" Yes, I notice." Harry said, irritably. He hadn't noticed any of this at all. He figured it was just pure coincidence and tough luck that they'd get the names they'd picked.  
  
" Also, guess who Snape is giving a gift to." Hermione had an elfish grin on her face. She had done some snooping, obviously. Harry knew it was just like Hermione to do so - she had the power to do that, after all.  
  
" Who?" Harry didn't feel like guessing.  
  
" Thea!" She giggled. " Isn't that just perfectly coincidental for him? He's practically in love with her." Hermione smiled widely. "You have to say you noticed at least THAT."  
  
Harry hadn't even noticed THAT. He nodded anyway.  
  
" I don't know much about anything else, but if I'm correct, then I'm getting a gift from Lavender, since she detests me ever since you asked me to the dance." Hermione looked thoughtful. "And I think I know who's getting YOU a gift."  
  
" Who?" Harry couldn't help but ask.  
  
" You'll find out." She laughed and then turned since someone was trying to talk to her. It was Neville, his face so red that the brown freckles on his face were nearly swallowed by the sea of maroon. " Oh, Hermione, you gotta help me." He whimpered.  
  
" What is it, Neville?" Hermione asked, her wand readying.  
  
" You're a girl, right?" Neville said, softly.  
  
Hermione's eyes shimmered. " Sure I am."  
  
" So you'll tell me what to tell Hannah to make her like me, won't you?" Neville's eyes melted like butter.  
  
" Uh. . . alright." Hermione thought hard. " Be yourself, be open, compliment her, and above all, don't do anything out of what you'd normally do when you're out with your friends, eating."  
  
" So I should basically spill everything that is capable of being spilled, sneeze when my mouth is full, and tell her dirty jokes?" Neville looked worried.  
  
" In that case, then I think you should just revise and brush up your normal self. Maybe become a more formal normal self, but keep your personality." Hermione was now stumbling over her words, not knowing what advice to give him.  
  
" I'm confused." Neville said.  
  
" So am I." Hermione laughed.  
  
" Here, Neville, just ask her to dance and compliment her. Make her feel nice, you know, like she's the greatest girl in the room." Harry advised.  
  
Neville nodded, then admitted: " I don't think I'll remember."  
  
Harry was stumped. " Well, then, just try and keep in mind that girls like table manners."  
  
" True." Hermione said, and she gave an awkward glance at Goyle, who had come with a fifth-year girl that she didn't recognize. Goyle had just burped out a reply to a question the girl asked, and she didn't look delighted at all. In fact, Harry hoped that she didn't vomit or anything, since her cheeks had turned a rather pale green.  
  
Neville had finally gone back to Hannah, who asked if he'd like to sit at her table with her two friends - both girls. They all giggled.  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile. Neville was a winner today.  
  
Just then, the plates on the tables burst open with food. Delicious aromas filled the entire dining hall, and just as Harry prepared to dig in, Dumbledore began an announcement:  
  
" Children! I'd like to ask you to eat hastily."  
  
" Crabbe's got that down pat." Hermione whispered. Harry now turned to Crabbe. He was sitting with Goyle, and Crabbe had a fourth-year girl with him. Crabbe's mouth was full and half his plate was cleared already.  
  
Harry stifled a laugh as Dumbledore continued:  
  
" We want to get past the dining part of this festivity and past the dancing and go right to the gifts-giving. I hope you all brought your Secret Ghost gifts?" Dumbledore's white and bushy eyebrows raised high on his forehead.  
  
A few heads nodded, a few people said 'Yes', and a few wise-guys from Slytherin (Draco included), had shouted: " No!"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head at them, then continued: " I hope that all the gifts are acceptable, as the rules had decided? No bombs, no green goop?" He looked right at Fred and George as he said this, and the twins both sunk low in their seats. They both had rather soggy-looking presents on the table and a slightly green discoloration had shown up on the white tablecloth. Harry knew more then well what had happened and what sort of gifts they had brought with them. He also knew for whom they got the gifts - for each other's girlfriends. This also made sense to what Hermione said, about the spell on the cauldron making everyone draw out a name of a person they'd be least likely to award a gift to.  
  
Harry felt Hermione grab his hand under the table, and he turned to her. She had something urgent to say, and speaking softly while Dumbledore's speech continued, she said:  
  
" I found something out. About English Whitescales."  
  
" What?" Harry asked.  
  
" Well, it appears that they are often useful even when they are less then a hundred years. Especially in their first years." Hermione said, softly.  
  
" In what ways?" Harry wanted to know. He realized this might relate to the disappearance of Hagrid and Lisa's baby dragon.  
  
" Read this." She held up a page from a book which she had ripped out. Harry stared at her in amazement. It wasn't like Hermione to rip pages out of books!  
  
She noticed his surprised gaze and explained: " I know a spell that can mend ripped-out pages. Don't worry."  
  
Harry breathed out a sigh of relief and then read the page softly to himself:  
  
'Young English Whitescales  
  
----------------------------------  
  
. Despite popular belief, some  
  
Whitescales can be in use even  
  
before they reach their one  
  
hundredth year. Records of this  
  
had been traced and found all the  
  
way back to the wizards of Greece  
  
in 200 AD.  
  
. Some common uses for the  
  
young dragons is to find older ones.  
  
The young Whitescale dragons have  
  
an instinctual habit of seeking  
  
for older members of its species,  
  
most likely due to when dragon  
  
populations boomed in 534 BC  
  
and how dragons had formed separate  
  
groups with leaders that were elder  
  
dragons.  
  
. Another use, less known to  
  
the public, had been found to be  
  
deeply associated with dark magic,  
  
because of how only dark wizards  
  
manipulate innocent young dragons  
  
like these.  
  
. One of such lesser known uses  
  
is that the skin of the dragon, when  
  
woven right, can be used to make a  
  
magical garment, whatever it might  
  
be. This garment, when worn, can  
  
disguise a person into the form  
  
of someone else.  
  
. A dark wizard from five thousand  
  
forty two years ago, a man named  
  
Alchadius the Fifth, had made himself  
  
a hat from the leather of the young  
  
Whitescale dragon. This leather had  
  
changed him from the form of an  
  
elderly old man to a handsome, robust  
  
young man with raven-black hair and  
  
a thick Greek accent. Things such  
  
as sex, race, accent, hair color, posture,  
  
eye color, body build, and others can  
  
be manipulated with the use of the  
  
hide. Since young Whitescales are hard  
  
to find, it is nearly impossible to meet  
  
someone in such a disguise today.'  
  
" My!" Harry's eyes widened. " This is. . ." His heart hammered. Someone who had stolen the baby dragon from Hagrid might now be running around, using the leather of the dragon to transform himself into someone new or something new.  
  
" Harry, do you think this might be significant?" Hermione asked. She, after all, didn't know of Hagrid's missing dragon or of the dragon stolen from Charlie's dragon-breeding grounds.  
  
" Yes. VERY significant." Harry whispered.  
  
" All right, students, start eating!" Dumbledore had just finished his speech. Harry suddenly didn't feel like eating too much. He took a gulping breath and then twirled his fork in the spaghetti that had sprung up on the lilac-patterned plate.  
  
Hermione wasn't eating much, either. She had no reason not to, though! Her plate was empty other then some salad that she'd put down on it.  
  
" Herm, why aren't you eating?" Harry inquired.  
  
" I'm just. . . not hungry." She said, softly.  
  
" You're not hungry a lot, lately. You keep missing breakfast and then sometimes you skip dinner. Hermione, I hope this isn't what I think this is." Harry said.  
  
" I'm on a diet." She told him.  
  
" A diet where you don't eat isn't a diet at all. Diets are when you eat all three meals, exercise regularly, and so on and so forth. And you don't even need a diet." Harry was upset, and Hermione could see it. She looked down at her plate.  
  
" I just haven't been hungry lately." She said, lamely.  
  
" Well, you better get hungry soon. Try the spaghetti, it's good." Harry put a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth to make his point. She nodded and tried the food as well.  
  
" You're right. It is good." She smiled.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The dancing had just begun, and Harry took Hermione by the hand and brought her up towards the front of the room, at the dance parquet that had been set up once again. They had an hour of dancing in plan, and Dumbledore hoped that his students would make the best of this time, since next was the gifts giving.  
  
Harry twirled Hermione and then they nearly avoided a collision with Ron and Lavender. Ron gave Harry a vague smile, then steered Lavender farther away from Harry.  
  
Hermione's long hair wound around her shoulders and she looked really pretty. Harry wanted to tell her, but just then, his mind was taken off of her when he saw Draco.  
  
Draco was sitting alone, one of the very few people that weren't dancing. In his hands he held a glass and he tilted the glass around between his fingers, causing the water inside to slosh from one side of the glass to the other.  
  
" Draco doesn't have a date." Harry told Hermione.  
  
" So?" She seemed unconcerned. She lifted his hand and did another twirl, then they moved farther left of the parquet so that Harry couldn't see Draco anymore.  
  
" I actually feel bad for him." Harry said.  
  
" Hmm."  
  
" I mean, he's more then he appears, actually. I don't know what it is, but there's something about him that tells me he might have been sandbagging us all along. He might actually be a nice person and a great friend." Harry wondered.  
  
" Keep dreaming." Hermione laughed and then stopped dancing, since the music had ended. There was a silence, and then Dumbledore said:  
  
" Now I ask the teachers to come up and choose someone to dance with!"  
  
A stunned silence followed, then laughter and applause as teachers made their way up to the front of the room. Professor Trelawney grabbed Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall took Professor Flitwick (since Flitwick was a bit short it looked rather funny, he had cast a floating charm on himself so that he was dancing in midair).  
  
A few eyes stopped on Thea. She was still sitting, laughing and watching the dozens of teachers beginning to dance. Even Filch was dancing with someone (Madame Hooch, who was having a great time and didn't even mind who she ended up dancing with). Harry hadn't noticed that all the teachers and faculty had been invited into the room.  
  
Then, everyone's eyes turned to Hagrid. He was there, too, and with Lisa. Despite how shaken Hagrid was about the disappearance of his English Whitescale dragon, he took Lisa and they danced merrily.  
  
The students observed that Snape was sitting, too, and he seemed rather nervous and fidgety. He had dressed up rather nicely for the Halloween ball, and Hermione even said he looked handsome today, then she laughed and realized how odd it was to say something like that.  
  
Thea stood and approached Snape. She held her hand out to him, her pretty pink lips forming words. Harry wished he could hear what she said.  
  
Snape took her hand, smiling, and then said something too.  
  
Hermione nudged Harry and said:  
  
" What did I tell you? Snape adores her."  
  
Snape, indeed, looked elated. He barely made his way up to the front of the room, his eyes plastered on the lovely Thea beside him. She was also dressed nicely, in a loose-fitting white dress with a lace coverlet on it. Her long blonde hair was pinned upwards and then tied down with a white glittery ribbon, which shimmered when it hit the light.  
  
They began to dance, and Snape was a surprisingly good dancer. Harry couldn't believe how happy Snape looked. He had never looked that happy in the entire time that Harry had seen Snape!  
  
The dance ended, and the teachers returned to their seats. This time, a much braver Snape sat down with Thea at her table. Thea was sitting alone, much to the tall and dark Snape's convenience.  
  
" Adorable." Hermione said, quietly. " Who'd have thought?"  
  
" Not me, that's for sure." Harry replied, grinning.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The dancing time had ended, and the Secret Ghost time had begun. Students got up, searching the room for the people they were giving a gift to.  
  
George and Fred's girlfriends both got a packet of green goo, and they laughed realizing that the Weasley twins ended up getting gifts for each other's girlfriends. The Weasley's girlfriends, meanwhile, got a gift for the wrong twin as well. Fred had gotten a crocheted pair of socks in a shockingly fluorescent green color, and George had gotten a plush teddy from Fred's girlfriend.  
  
Neville and Hannah had ended up exchanging gifts, and Hannah had given Neville a kiss on the cheek when she saw the gift she had received.  
  
Harry stalled as much as he could from handing his gift over to Draco. He made sure to stop and chat to everyone he even remotely recognized.  
  
Hermione had given Dennis his sticker and the pink quill pen (Dennis was happier with the sticker), and then she waited to find out who was giving her a gift.  
  
Ron had handed Rebecca Crick his gift, then quickly got away from her. Rebecca finally approached Hermione and gave her a gift. It was a small snow globe with nothing inside. " Oh." Hermione exclaimed. " So you were giving me a gift?"  
  
Rebecca nodded, then said: " Do you like it?"  
  
" Yes." Hermione smiled. " But. . . what is it?"  
  
" It's a snow globe!" Rebecca said, as if she were speaking to someone stupid.  
  
" Yes, I know that! But there's nothing inside of it." Hermione said. " What was supposed to be inside?"  
  
Rebecca hadn't replied. She had simply shrugged and walked away. " Strange, that girl." Hermione whispered to Harry when she returned to him with her snow globe. " I expected to get a gift from Lavender. I suppose Rebecca was the one least likely to give me a gift, now that I think about it. She doesn't like me much, does she?"  
  
" No, she doesn't." Harry shook his head. " Too bad, really. Since she doesn't know what she's missing." He put his arm around Hermione and then they went over to Lavender and Parvati, who were both supposed to give gifts to Crabbe and Goyle, and looked rather distressed about it.  
  
Harry watched out of the corner of his eye as the teachers gave gifts to each other. Snape was to give Thea a gift, and he gave her a bouquet of white flowers.  
  
Harry wondered who was going to give him a gift. Just as he readied to go to Draco's table, he realized Draco wasn't there. Harry clutched Draco's gift closer to him and then looked around for the light-haired, fair-skinned boy.  
  
The room was so crowded, it was hard to find anyone, not even someone the size of Hagrid. Harry felt a light tap on his shoulder and he turned around.  
  
Draco was there, holding out a gift at an arm's length from Harry. " Here you go." Draco said. " Happy Halloween." Then, he turned and looked ready to leave.  
  
" Wait." Harry said. " Here's a gift for you." He gave Draco the wrapped-up diary. Draco was a bit surprised that Harry was giving him a gift. He opened it, then said:  
  
" Oh!"  
  
Harry could see Draco liked the journal. His eyes were widening and his mouth had opened, and he seemed awed. " This must have cost you a fortune." Draco finally said.  
  
" I thought you'd like it."  
  
They were both silent. He seemed to be struggling with something, then said, just loudly enough so Harry could barely hear it: " Um. . . thank you. I like it a lot." His words were honest. He spoke as if he never really got a gift like this, a gift so meaningful. And he probably never gave a gift, either.  
  
He added: " Open my gift later. It's stupid. You probably won't like it." Draco seemed a bit upset. " Well, thanks." Then, he walked away, looking dazzled.  
  
Harry shrugged at that, not knowing what to think of Draco's nervous behavior. He shook the gift lightly. Whatever it was, it wasn't huge, since the parcel was small. It wasn't in a lot of pieces, either, since nothing rattled when he shook it.  
  
Harry went back to Hermione, and Hermione said:  
  
" Did you get Draco's gift?"  
  
Harry nodded. " You were right. The cauldron was tapped. Everyone gave a gift to the person they're least likely to give a gift to."  
  
" I think it was a brilliant idea of Dumbledore to do that. It might just make some new friends." Hermione smiled. " Did Draco like the diary thing? What did you get from him?"  
  
" He liked my gift for him. I think he liked it a lot, in fact." Harry was satisfied, knowing that. " And he told me to open the gift from him later. He seemed embarrassed at giving it."  
  
" Poor guy." Hermione smiled. " I bet he never gave a gift in his life, at least, not a meaningful one like this. No wonder he was all jittery about it."  
  
" I wonder what it is?" Harry looked at it curiously.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Later on, in the common room, just as all the other boys had fallen asleep, Harry sat down under the window so that the moonlight allowed him to see what he was doing. He slowly opened the gift from Draco.  
  
The parcel was so light he wondered if perhaps Draco didn't put anything in it at all, just stuffed it with tissues and wrapped it to look good. Maybe he was in the Slytherin common room right now, having a good few yaks with Crabbe and Goyle about it. Maybe he threw away the journal from Harry, or he burned it, or did something equally mean.  
  
' No!' Harry thought to himself. 'He wouldn't do that. Why do I always have to think he's going to do the worst thing possible?' Harry couldn't really answer that question for himself as he pulled open the gift. Slowly, carefully, he revealed the inside of the present.  
  
It was a small box, covered in fuzzy felt. Harry was very curious now.  
  
He raised the lid of the felt box and he saw a lovely golden locket inside. It was a tiny little thing, shaped like a heart and rather roomy inside, and he opened it and saw a picture of his mother on one side and one of his father on the other. They were old pictures, but were still moving, though not as advanced as the wizard pictures these times held. On the back of the locket, someone had carved 'L.P.'  
  
He was quite taken aback by this present and he then read the note inside, in Draco's clear and concise handwriting:  
  
' Harry!  
  
'I'm sure you know your dad and my dad went to school at Hogwarts together. Well, it happens that your mother had this little locket, see, and she lost it. My dad found it and he was going to give it back, but I guess he never got around to. I found this at home. My dad was going to throw it out, he's not much for sentimental things. I figured it'd be best if you had it.'  
  
'I couldn't really find any other gift, I guess I risked my ass just getting this thing for you, my dad hates when I take his things without asking. But he probably wouldn't have let me give this gift. He probably would've been against the whole Secret Ghost business.'  
  
' The pictures of your mom and dad weren't in there when I found it, I just sort of cut those out of my dad's yearbook. He never looks in there anyway.'  
  
Well, you better like it, Potter!'  
  
Harry laughed at that last sentence. It was just like Draco, to write in something like that. Of course, Harry was now convinced that Draco couldn't be all that bad.  
  
At the bottom of the little letter, Draco had scribbled his signature in, rather messily. Harry folded the note back up and then leaned his head back onto the wooden backing of his bed. He would have never imagined getting a gift like this from Draco.  
  
He knew that Malfoy probably had gone through quite some trouble behind his dad's back to get the locket to it's rightful owner. Harry's mind whirled with gratitude and surprise. He had to thank him, and thank him most generously. It was going to be his closest belonging, other then his Firebolt and the Invisibility Cloak.  
  
' This belonged to my mum. . .' Harry thought, flipping the little golden locket around in his hands. ' My mum . . .'  
  
Soon he couldn't see the locket any longer through the tears in his eyes.  
  
A/N: I had to flip through the Harry Potter books to see if Lucius Malfoy went to school with Lily and James. Knowing that he did, it was easier to figure out that perhaps Lucius had found the locket. Then, knowing how he probably wasn't too fond of the Potters, he never gave it back. I figured it would be Draco to give it back. Yeah, I know it's a bit out of character for Draco to do that but I really do think he's not that bad! I think he's a rather nice person, actually, only withdrawn for certain reasons. I kind of wrote a little background fic on that, it's called 'If his father only knew. . .'. You could read that if you want to find out how I see Draco as a character.  
  
Oh, and I'm really working on adding more fluff but It's hard to add it since I don't think Harry and Hermione would be sitting around snogging all day and moaning out " Oh I love you, I love you", perhaps I should add it in still but I don't know how, exactly. Any suggestions will be highly appreciated, email them to me at LittleMaggie01@yahoo.com. I'm definitely not making this more then PG-13 though, keep that in mind. 


	14. Of Pigs and Teachers and All Sorts of Th...

Author's Note: I don't own Harry Potter. Boo-hoo! *wah*  
  
Oh! And if you want to read a really good HP fic (it's got me hooked, too), then read Naeginnie6 's story "Harry Potter and the Golden Ridgeback". Trust me it's good! And do review it, for my friend, eh?  
  
1  
  
2 Chapter 14  
  
Of Pigs and Teachers and All Sorts of Things  
  
  
  
When the time had come for October to be swept away with the massive broom of fall from the front step of the year (November had just come in, after all), Harry had gone to see Hagrid. Perhaps Hagrid would need some comfort, or maybe Harry felt it was only fair, but he wanted to speak with his old friend again. He always felt that the giant man was as soft as a down pillow and that he simply just needed a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
It was the day after Halloween, and just an hour before the huge Quidditch match (Gryffindor against Slytherin), but Harry knew that he would always have time to go see Hagrid. His eyes twinkling in the sunlight, Harry headed for the little cabin.  
  
His knuckles rapped on the door.  
  
A hollow echo replied, and then a shuffling that quite easily indicated that someone was going towards the door. The door opened just a crack, and Hagrid's scraggly black beard just barely appeared through it.  
  
" What is it, Harry?" Hagrid asked, nervously.  
  
" I can to see you." Harry replied. " Open the door."  
  
" I'm sorry, but this ain't the best time for visitin', Harry." Hagrid replied.  
  
" It isn't?" Harry was puzzled. " Why? What are you up to again?" Harry tried to push the door open but Hagrid was, obviously, a whole lot stronger and Harry had to give up pushing the door open.  
  
" I'm up to nothin'." Hagrid said, innocently.  
  
" Yeah, sure you aren't!" Harry laughed and then tried to push the door open again. This time, Hagrid let him, and Harry tumbled into the room, then turned around to face the tall man. "Come on, Hagrid, what's the big deal with all this secrecy?"  
  
" Let him find out if he'd like, Rubeus." Lisa's voice rang from inside. Harry saw her in the light of the room and waved to her. She waved back, and asked: " Today's your big Quidditch match, isn't it, Harry?"  
  
" Yep." Harry replied.  
  
" Lisa, don't distract 'im! Harry, you ain't s'posed ter be here." Hagrid boomed.  
  
" We can tell him." Lisa said, softly.  
  
" Tell me what?" Harry demanded to know. Sometimes he was just so sick of guessing games.  
  
" Harry, cross yer heart and swear on all yer bones that yeh ain't gonna tell anyone what we tell yeh?" Hagrid said, softly. Lisa's soft eyes turned to Harry, and so did Hagrid's. Harry knew he had to either back out now or to cross his heart.  
  
" Well, is it something bad?" Harry asked.  
  
" Most likely." Lisa replied.  
  
" I don't know if I should promise I won't tell, then." Harry sighed. He didn't want to make any more promises crossing over what he had promised with Ron, Hermione, or Hagrid.  
  
" Then go, Harry." Hagrid said.  
  
" I can't just leave. There's obviously something bothering you two." Harry reasoned. " If you think I have as little heart as to leave you both like this, then you're wrong."  
  
" Some things are best unsaid." Lisa finally said, after the silence grew prolonged. " But, if you insist. . ."  
  
" Yes!" Harry immediately sat himself down across from Lisa. She turned her sad eyes towards him and spoke: " We've found something that might be a clue of who stole our precious Whitescale. Did Hagrid tell you of that?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
Lisa was surprised, but continued anyway: " It might not even be a clue, it could really mean nothing, just a vague thing and all. But here. . ." She put something down on the table before Harry. It was a small golden button.  
  
Harry took it and then turned it around in his fingers. " It looks familiar." He said, after a while. " Very familiar, in fact." He put the button back down onto the table and said: " Can't either of you cast a spell, just to see if you can trace the button to its owner?"  
  
" Neither of us knows spells that advanced." Lisa said.  
  
Harry knew that they couldn't ask someone like Dumbledore about it - Dumbledore would be against it right away. Harry wondered long and hard about it, before saying: " I'll look up the spell, maybe we can try it with my wand."  
  
In the distance, Harry could hear chattering and noise. The Quidditch field was getting prepared for the game and he wasn't there, pep-talking to his team. " Well, I gotta get going, but I'm glad you told me, because I'm beginning to solve this little mystery." Harry told them.  
  
Lisa asked: "What mystery?"  
  
" The dragon-nappin', ya mean." Hagrid rumbled out.  
  
" No, there's a bit more to it then that." Harry grinned, and then added: " I have quite a mystery to solve, in fact, and everything can be a puzzle piece to it."  
  
" Hmm." Lisa lost interest. " What I care for most is to get poor little Annabel back."  
  
" That was the Whitescale's name?" Harry realized it was a female Whitescale. Was that of any significance? Another thing to look up in the library!  
  
" Yeah." Lisa wiped a tear away, which had made its way down her cheek. " Go, now, Harry. The game's gonna begin real soon."  
  
Harry left, and just as he shut the door, he heard Lisa saying: "He's a nice boy."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
(A/N: I still don't get Quidditch. Yeah, I know, I should by now, but I have NO idea except that it has 4 balls, a lot of goal posts, and a Seeker and Catcher and who knows what else. Since I will most likely mess up, let's just say SCENES MISSING of the Quidditch match, and let's move on to what happens after it.).  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry stopped his broom as a sudden cheer rose from the crowds. His fingers held the Snitch. It was nearly impossible to get, and he marveled now at the small golden ball, the wings still twitching and struggling to escape his fingers. He flexed his hand, and then tossed the Snitch at Fred and George, who caught it and paraded around the field holding it up.  
  
The score-board flashed the score: 170 points to 60. If not for the Snitch, then Slytherin would have been the winner. But Gryffindor had caught the lovely golden ball and now his team cheered wildly, exclaiming and giving each other high-fives.  
  
Even though the opposing sides were supposed to shake hands after the game, Slytherin drew away from Gryffindor as if Gryffindor was infested with parasites. Only Draco Malfoy approached Harry, and said: " Nice job. With the Snitch." Then, he walked away.  
  
Harry called after him: "Thanks!"  
  
Then, he was carried away on his team's shoulders, Fred and George cheering loudly enough for a hundred people. Harry caught a glimpse of Hermione as she ran after the Gryffindor team. She probably wanted to congratulate Harry, too.  
  
" Put me down for a sec." Harry told his team. They obliged, and then Harry realized that Fred had put more of his green goop onto his shoulder. He turned and shouted after him: "Fred! Really, you ought to consider acting more your age!"  
  
Fred laughed and called back: " Can't remember my age!"  
  
" Then you should get to know Neville better! You'd make a nice pair!" Harry laughed and then turned to Hermione, who had by now caught up with them. " Hey, Herm. Did you see me? I caught the Snitch, and quite by accident, too. Don't tell anyone else, but I actually wasn't even looking for it. I was kind of distracted by Rebecca, she was practically giving me the 'evil eye' the entire game, and. . ."  
  
Harry couldn't finish since Hermione was kissing him, laughing, cheering him too. " Oh, Harry, you've made Gryffindor unbeatable! I do think we can get the House Cup!" She was saying.  
  
" I didn't think it would mean so much to you." He held her away from him, since he knew that by now she probably had left a good set of pink lips from her lip gloss, right on his cheek, and probably on his lips, too.  
  
" Oh, but it does. You're captain, aren't you? That makes it mean all the more." She gave him a heart-warming smile. He smiled and replied:  
  
" Thanks, Hermione."  
  
They were rushed into the Hogwarts castle as the crowds left the Quidditch game. Harry reminded himself to go speak with Draco about the gift - to tell him how much it meant to him.  
  
Yet, just as he ran to find Draco, he was stopped by the sight of Neville collapsing on his knees, clutching his stomach. Fred and George were standing by him, looking both worried and guilty, which was an expression that didn't cross their identical faces too often.  
  
" Neville! What's wrong?" Harry cried out, kneeling down beside his friend.  
  
Neville coughed, and then coughed again. He choked out in a distorted voice: " I. . . I ate one of the Weasley twin's trick gums." He hugged his stomach closer. " Oh. . . my stomach. . ."  
  
" Fred! George! How could you?" Harry shouted at the twins. "I mean, smearing goop all over my shoulder every blasted time is enough, but nearly killing Neville! Don't you ever learn?"  
  
" Gosh, sorry, Harry. We were only having fun." George whispered.  
  
" Oh yeah? Well go have fun elsewhere. This isn't funny anymore." Harry helped right up Neville, who's knees keep buckling beneath him, his eyes suddenly blossoming to a dark red color. He clawed frantically at Harry and began to shriek like crazy.  
  
" Neville! People are staring!" Harry whispered to him.  
  
" Eee! Eee!" Neville hissed out, his red orb-like eyes focusing on the Weasley twins.  
  
" What kind of gum did you give him, anyway?" Harry asked, in a panicking voice.  
  
" It was sort of one of those, um . . ." George stalled.  
  
" Tell me!" Harry shouted.  
  
People were gathering, staring as Neville let out a piercing howl and his skin erupted in light-colored fur with a few brown areas of discoloration. His nose stretched out, growing broader, the nostrils flipping out in front of it, growing a good inch wide and flaring angrily. His teeth grew elongated.  
  
" Don't tell me!" Harry gasped. " You wanted to turn him into a pig!" Harry clutched at the shrieking Neville, who grew less and less like Neville and more like a pig with every second. Soon, his canine teeth became like tusks (sharp as spears and twice as deadly), and his teeth grew jagged.  
  
" Not exactly a pig." Fred shouted back.  
  
" More like a boar." George added.  
  
" A boar." Harry said to himself in disgust, and then readied his wand. He was going to try to stupefy it. " Stupefy!" He shouted. The boar spun around, squealing; a massive patch of drool was flowing from its swarthy mouth.  
  
Just in time, Professor McGonagall appeared, her gray hair fluttering out of her bun as she ran. " Children! Children, step away! We can't endanger anyone!"  
  
The boar (Neville) stared angrily at McGonagall, and then charged, its tusks bared and gleaming white inside its snout. "Disgusting bugger, isn't it?" Harry heard someone exclaim. He was glad Hannah was sick in the hospital wing (she had twisted her ankle, and he wasn't glad she was hurt but glad she didn't see Neville at such a state).  
  
" Goodness!" Professor McGonagall raised her wand and then shouted an unfamiliar spell: ' Incandium Slumbericus!'. The boar stopped halfway in his pounce at her, and then suddenly fell to its side, asleep.  
  
Everyone let out an honest sigh of relief and then dozens of students gather around the knocked-out, sleeping boar. Even now, Harry approached cautiously, knowing it was only asleep, after all. He nudged his glasses farther up his nose with his finger and then asked Professor McGonagall: " He's not hurt, is he?"  
  
" No, Harry. But I think that the Weasley twins will have a great deal of explaining to do." Her voice dripped in anger.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
" They've done it now!" Hermione whispered to Harry as they both sat together on the couch before a crackling fireplace in the common room. Actually, Hermione was sort of leaning on Harry, and he was leaning on the armrest of the couch. A bowl of Hershey's Kisses stood beside Harry's leg, which Hermione tried to avoid but couldn't. Her mouth was full with a handful as she spoke to him. She loved Muggle candies, especially those Harry managed to sneak from the Dursleys with him as he came to Hogwarts. Hermione's parents, being dentists, didn't like having her eat candy, after all.  
  
" Well, they were looking for trouble the moment they came to Hogwarts." Harry replied.  
  
" I think it's silly, to try and turn Neville into a boar. What were they trying to prove?" Hermione popped another Kiss into her mouth. " These are delicious! How come my parents don't buy these for me?"  
  
" Maybe because they don't want your teeth to rot?" Harry guessed.  
  
She laughed. " Maybe." Her fingers clutched a handful of them and she then dropped them into Harry's lap, right on his shirt, between the folds. They shared them.  
  
She looked up to say something to him and their noses bumped. Harry watched her blush deep scarlet and she looked down again, forgetting what she was to say. He saw that she still wore his rings, even though they didn't match her outfit today.  
  
They sat in silence, looking at the fire. The flames were dancing so merrily tonight! They curled up, licking the metal jaws that encased them inside their prison, their red tongues licking at the cold bars, their golden lips kissing across the brick walls. The fire danced inside Harry's eyes. He tilted his head, his cheek resting on Hermione's head, her head resting on his shoulder.  
  
Time passed slowly, and yet Harry wished it would stop altogether. If the world were to end at that moment and the earth were to be split by ravenous fires, he would have been satisfied with this being his last moment.  
  
A small piece of wood slid down inside the fireplace, bumping with another. A wide gash of black soot erupted, and was soon swallowed by beautiful flames again. Harry was mesmerized by the fire, and only realized a while later that Hermione had fallen asleep. Her head had fallen forwards, now her forehead grazing his chest. Harry immediately scooted over, letting her lie down.  
  
He cleaned up the few spilled Hershey's Kisses and then put the bowl back on top of the mantle, where he had planned to hide it from the other boys in the room. Knowing the male appetite, Harry couldn't leave a bowl of sweet chocolate just out in the open like that.  
  
Harry returned to where Hermione was sleeping. He wondered if he should wake her up and then escort her to where the girl's sleeping rooms were, but then he thought better of it and let her sleep, her rich brown curls hanging in ringlets and glowing to the burning rhythm in the fire. Harry put the fire in the fireplace out with a spell, the warm glow leaving the room. Instead, the moonlight outside bathed the room.  
  
He stood in the doorway, looking at the room with fondness, then went to his bed and fell asleep quickly.  
  
¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Professor Trelawney looked at Harry with her deep meaningful eyes. "Harry, have you studied for our palm reading exam today?"  
  
" It was today?" Harry gasped out. He had completely forgotten all about it. His Palm-Reading book was still book-marked at the beginning of the chapter and he hadn't cracked the book since.  
  
" Yes, it was today." Professor Trelawney suddenly turned around and told Pansy Parkinson, whom was writing a note to a friend: " Pansy, dear, put the letter to Parvati inside your bookbag before your quill spills ink on it."  
  
It was a bit too late, for just as Professor Trelawney said 'ink', Pansy's quill let out a large messy ink splotch that swallowed up the entire corner of the paper. " Oh, no!" She cried out. " And I wrote so much!"  
  
" I'm sorry." Professor Trelawney turned back to Harry. "Now! What do I have to do to you children to make you believe me when I say that this is IMPORTANT!" Her cheeks were blotched in anger. "Especially you, Harry. I sense something in you, a much stronger aura then in anyone else. You have to take this seriously. It can help you someday."  
  
" It won't help any of us. It's guesswork and a whole lot of it." Draco suddenly drawled out. Professor Trelawney spun around to face him, her face even redder.  
  
" It ! Is! NOT! GUESSWORK!" She shouted out each word like a separate sentence so it hung in the air over Draco's head like a two ton anvil.  
  
Draco didn't seem convinced. He scoffed.  
  
Everyone was now wondering if Draco was just stupid or really brave.  
  
" Nobody can tell me that some soppy tea leaves or the ridges on your hand will tell you the future." Draco said, leaning on a little table. It teetered a bit and he took his elbow off it.  
  
" As a matter of fact, they do!" Professor Trelawney dug into her big black canvas bag and pulled out a massive book, one that could tip the scales when weighed against three Bibles. " I have a million pieces of proof and evidence in this book, Draco, as to how this does tell the future."  
  
" What if the evidence is made up?" Draco questioned. " Is there any way to actually prove the things written in there?"  
  
Professor Trelawney's face reddened even more. She stammered out: " Um, um. . . yes, I think there is a way to prove it!"  
  
" What is it, then?" Draco asked.  
  
" I. . . I don't know!" Professor Trelawney suddenly looked very furious. " Get out of my room, Draco Malfoy! Get out right now!" She pointed with her thin bony finger at the doorway. Draco sat there, smiling as if he didn't care.  
  
" Can't take it when someone questions you with the truth." Draco finally said. " Well, then, see you people." He stood and walked out, slowly, with honor.  
  
Lavender was staring with an odd admiration at him that hadn't been there before. The room stayed in a strange stiff silence for a while, then Professor Trelawney collapsed in her chair, her head in her hands, and said: " Just. . . just study from your books today, and the exam will be shifted to tomorrow." Her voice trembled as she spoke.  
  
Outside, through the little glass panel in the door, Draco Malfoy was standing, his head dropped, leaning on the wall. His posture wasn't so honored and proud out there.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Lunchtime was just about the only time Harry could catch up to Draco and talk to him. Draco had been locking himself up inside his common room during dinner and breakfast, and he, out of pure hunger, stayed for lunch.  
  
He had to thank him, but somehow in a subtle way, so he didn't just push his gratitude all over Draco. He knew that Malfoy probably would hate that. Harry had come early to lunch and then found Draco, sitting with Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table. He had some sort of a letter in his hand and he was avidly explaining something to them, and from their blank stares, he figured that they had no idea what Draco was talking about.  
  
Harry caught a few words of their conversation before he said something. Draco was patiently explaining to them that the word 'balloon' had two l's.  
  
" But I thought it had two O's." Goyle murmured.  
  
" Yeah, but it has two L's, too." Draco said.  
  
" Why?" Crabbe leaned forwards.  
  
" Hey! Do you want to write a prank letter with errors all over it? They'd know right away that you chicken-brains wrote it." Draco smiled and then added something at the bottom. " We should write anonymous at the bottom."  
  
" But I thought we weren't going to sign it!" Crabbe exclaimed. "And you said we have a bad memory."  
  
" And who's Andy Nomynous anyway?" Crabbe wondered.  
  
Draco took a deep breath and Harry could swear he was counting to ten inside his head. Then, Draco slowly, carefully explained: " Anonymous is the word for 'unknown author'. It's not a name, it's a term."  
  
" Oh." Crabbe and Goyle both said, but they still didn't understand it.  
  
Draco folded up the paper and handed it to Goyle. " Now go put it in McGonagall's office, right on her desk. Won't she be surprised to find out that there's a bouquet of roses for her in Dumbledore's office, when we're going to leave a snake there." Draco smiled to himself, the evil little plan coming together in his head. " Now to keep old Dumbledore from barging in there."  
  
" Um. . ." Harry approached them just then.  
  
Draco pushed the letter off the edge of the table and it fluttered to the floor and Goyle stepped on it. " Goyle! You idiot! I wanted to hide it, not ruin it." Draco whispered fervently at them, then turned to Harry. "What do you want?"  
  
" I thought I should thank you for the gift." Harry began.  
  
" Gift?" Crabbe's eyebrows raised.  
  
" Potter's gone crazy. I didn't give him a gift." Draco said, then gave Harry a look. " You guys go away! Ad pick up that damn letter! It's got your footprint on it now. McGonagall's gonna know your gigantic flappers, if anything."  
  
Goyle and Crabbe listened, to Harry's amazement. They picked up the letter and then scrambled out of there.  
  
Malfoy turned back to Harry, after a while. " They're just like kids, really." He said, softly. " How on Earth will they make it outside of Hogwarts? They need supervision at all times."  
  
Harry didn't know if it was a question he should ask or one of those rhetoric ones that should remain unanswered. He decided it was the latter, and then said: " I never thought you'd give me my mother's locket. I didn't even think you'd get me a gift." Harry had the locket with him, inside of his pocket. He took it out. " I don't know how to thank you."  
  
Draco didn't reply. He took a bite out of a piece of bread and then chewed in thought. Finally, he said: " So you like it?"  
  
" Of course." Harry was stunned by the question. He figured it was obvious that he liked the gift.  
  
" Good, then." Draco replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. He wasn't a man of many words, perhaps. Draco took another bite of the bread and then asked: " Why are you still standing there? Shouldn't you go back to your table before anyone thinks you'd flipped?"  
  
" Right." Harry turned, his fingers clutching the locket protectively. " Did your father find out?"  
  
" Find out what?" Draco asked, nervously, his eyes suddenly getting an animal fright inside them, one that changed the cold blue eyes of his into two drops of painful fear. He looked like a puppy that had been kicked too much.  
  
" That you took the locket. And the yearbook pictures." Harry explained.  
  
" Oh. That." Draco's fearful eyes faded back to a normal, uncaring blueness. " No, he didn't find out. He probably doesn't even remember he had the locket."  
  
" Well, thank you, again." Harry smiled at him.  
  
He didn't get a smile in return. Draco turned his head, and said, just barely: " You're welcome." The words were unnatural to him.  
  
Harry decided to leave it be at that. He went back to the Gryffindor table, where Ron and Hermione were discussing something. The table seemed a bit different without Neville, since he was still at Madame Pomfrey's, trying to get turned back into a human again.  
  
The Weasley twins were gone, too. They had actually been suspended from Hogwarts for the week, forced to go back to their parents. Ron had told Harry that this was the last thing his parents needed on their minds - the two rambunctious twins.  
  
Harry sat down and then put the locket back into his pocket. Hermione turned to him and said: " Oh, hi Harry. I thought you wouldn't come to lunch today. You're always here by now."  
  
" I had something to take care of." Harry replied, shortly.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The next day, after an uneventful evening, Harry found himself in Snape's class. Snape was speaking to his class in a deep, rumbling voice, his lessons back to normal. He had, most likely, tried to pretend he didn't care for the good-looking Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.  
  
Today's class didn't consist of a demonstration (this made Harry feel quite good, because he had become a regular victim to Snape's demonstrations). Just as they opened their books to read, Nearly Headless Nick floated into the room.  
  
He went right up to Snape and said: " I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to see Harry Potter outside for a moment."  
  
Nearly Headless Nick waited as Snape considered whether he should let Harry go or whether he should tell Nearly Headless Nick to get out of his classroom. Finally, Snape nodded his consent. Nearly Headless Nick floated over to Harry's desk and Harry stood and followed the ghost out the room.  
  
Once they were in the hallway, Harry asked: "What's wrong, Nick?"  
  
" I found it most important to tell you right away. It seems Rebecca Crick was rather careless in speaking her plans aloud as she wrote them down for herself, and I had to come and tell you, right away. . ." Nearly Headless Nick was babbling.  
  
" What's the problem?" Harry asked, cutting Nick short. He got right to the point:  
  
" There is a girl named Rebecca Crick. You know her, do you not?"  
  
" Yes." Harry nodded.  
  
" Well, I heard her mumbling your name quite often as she was writing something down. Evil plans, I think." Nick paused. "Are you sure you know who I'm speaking of?"  
  
" Yes!" Harry nodded again, this time a bit stiffly, impatience taking its toll on him.  
  
" She's been practicing the Avada Kedavra curse, too. She has a whole group of fruit flies in a jar on her desk and she goes up to them and says the Avada Kedavra curse quite often to them." Nick sighed. " The poor things - they die quickly with that curse."  
  
" Avada Kedavra! But it's a deadly curse! She's not even supposed to know how to use it!" Harry cried out.  
  
" I know, and that's why I'm telling you. I figured that since you always seemed to solve the mysteries before, (with the help of your friends), you should know this." Nick added: " She's awfully good at the curse now. She can say it in her sleep, I bet."  
  
" How can she know it, though?" Harry marveled. " It takes years of practice. Very few wizards mastered the curse."  
  
" I don't know. She might have began when she was seven or so, to learn it. Quite a scary seven year old she must have been, don't you think?" Nick's voice droned out.  
  
" I suppose." Harry's mind swirled with new clues and new arrows. He had a few threads, and he felt he had something going against Rebecca Crick already. He had to speak to Hermione about it. And he also had the thread with how the dragons were disappearing and how Charlie was attacked, and the death of Timothy Rower and how it all added up. He figured he still needed more clues, but this put many things into clearer perspective.  
  
" That's all I wanted to say. Have a nice class." Nick turned and floated away.  
  
" Thanks, Nick. That would be a lot of help!" Harry called out after the ghost. In the distance, down the hall, the ghost of the friar was bustling through, his robes swirling.  
  
Harry returned to Potions class just as Snape was explaining to the class the process of boiling a potion that could, when ingested, make someone invincible to snake bites. It was supposed to only work for two hours, though.  
  
Hermione whispered to him as he sat down: "What did he say?"  
  
" I'll tell you later. It's really important. And I think I should tell you something I found out about Hagrid. . ." Harry realized that he should at least break the promise to Hagrid, because he knew Hermione needed to know. He would have never solved anything, past or present, without her.  
  
  
  
Author's Note:  
  
I have crossed 225 pages on Microsoft word with this story, and I am quite amazed that I was able to make it this long so far. Thanks for the reviews, they are what kept me going when I was out of ideas. I promise this will get better, or at least stay the same in satisfaction. 


	15. Broken Promises

A/N: I, sadly, don't own Harry Potter. It would be marvelous if I did, but I don't.  
  
1 Chapter 15  
  
2 Broken Promises  
  
Harry and Hermione sat in the library, flipping through books, trying to see what they could find to help solve the mystery. Harry had told Hermione about Hagrid's dragon, and with great guilt, too. He couldn't break his promise to Ron, though. Hermione had drawn out a list for herself and Harry, where they wrote down the clues and then tried to see what it could mean. A few clues were missing, since Harry hadn't told her of Charlie.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Clue~~~~~~~~|Meaning ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Rebecca Crick| She wants to scare Harry, and it wasn't  
  
tried to kill. . .|an attack on Sirius then.  
  
Hedwig ? ? ? ?|  
  
_______________________________________________________  
  
Timothy Rower| Age needed to be known of a Whitescale,  
  
killed, he KEPT| since at 100 they can give someone  
  
Whitescale pa-| life, make them stronger. At young age, they  
  
pers. ? ? ? ? ? | can be used to transform people to diff. shape  
  
________________________________________________________  
  
Hagrid's White-| Young Whitescales needed to have one's shape  
  
Scale is taken, | changed into something else. The gold button  
  
gold button left| was part of clothing - who has gold buttons and  
  
at the scene. ? | where?  
  
________________________________________________________  
  
Rebecca Crick | Avada Kedavra takes a long time to learn. She  
  
Practicing the | would have had to start around age 7 to learn -  
  
Avada Kedavra| she might have been trained to do it? Why does  
  
Curse - why? ?| she need to know it? Timothy Rower died from it.  
  
________________________________________________________  
  
Hermione looked at her list, not quite satisfied with it. "Harry, you know what this list is missing?" She finally said.  
  
" What?" He asked.  
  
" Well, it's a bit unclear of a few things, for instance, why would Timothy Rower's records be taken? It wasn't a dragon from Charlie's dragon farm that was taken." Hermione puzzled over this. "Maybe I should speak with Ron, perhaps he knows of a reason that I'm not catching?"  
  
" I don't think he'd know." Harry told her, guilt washing over him.  
  
" Oh." She tapped her quill on the paper, then said: "Well, we do know a lot more about the English Whitescales now, don't we? And Rebecca Crick is awfully suspicious to me anyway. Do you think she was writing those mean letters to me?"  
  
" Maybe." Harry said. " She is second best in marks other then you, she might want to threaten you into stepping down or else she'll hurt me."  
  
" Should I add that to the list, as a suspicion? It might have something to do with all this." Hermione asked.  
  
" Sure, add it." Harry said, then remembered something. "That book we found in the library! It was someone else's, wasn't it?"  
  
" Yes." Hermione nodded.  
  
" And then Rebecca was writing to a bookstore, wasn't she?" Harry had told Hermione about how he caught Rebecca writing to a bookstore.  
  
" Yes, she was." Hermione nodded again.  
  
" And didn't Draco mention something about Rebecca having a book on English Whitescales!" Harry was now delighted at the clues that they had solved.  
  
" But why would having a book already make her write to the bookstore?" Hermione asked.  
  
" Maybe she lost it, when it really just wound up in the library." Harry replied. " And she wrote for another one. The only thing that doesn't add up is the name inside the book, it didn't really match it."  
  
They went to get the book (Hermione had hidden it under the twelve copies of Hogwarts: A School History), and they stared at the distilled writing at the inside left cover:  
  
_eb_o_a_  
  
" Rebecca doesn't really fit that, does it?" Hermione said. "It matches the beginning, but then it has an 'o', and another letter after the 'a'." She shook her head. " Nope, I don't think this is Rebecca's book.  
  
" Oh." Harry sighed and closed the book. " This is a pretty complicated case. Nothing much seemed to be happening lately, though. The death of Timothy Rower was all that Voldemort - I mean, You-Know-Who - seemed to cause."  
  
" We can't get too comfortable." Hermione said. " Perhaps You-Know- Who is making plans, just waiting until he can strike at someone. The more the reason you should honestly avoid the spotlight."  
  
" I've heard it a million times from you." Harry rolled his eyes. " I really don't think that something would happen to me."  
  
" You never know." She said, in a tone of foreboding.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Half a week oozed by, slowly and painfully. It was boring at Hogwarts lately. Everything seemed to go by like the day before. From time to time, Peeves would tie someone's shoelaces as they sat in class or something, but other then that, nothing happened that was worth noting.  
  
Harry was dosing off in his common room one evening, waiting for dinner, when Ron burst into the room, panicked.  
  
" Harry! Harry!" He shouted.  
  
" Ron? What is it?" Harry sat up, his stomach hurting as he did, the muscles tightening. He had played a bet with Nick Chang that he could do more sit ups then he could, and they both ended up tying at two hundred four in five minutes time, and now Harry could barely sit up without wincing.  
  
Ron plopped himself down on the lazy-boy chair beside the couch and moaned out: " Oh, it's horrible! It's horrible!"  
  
" What's horrible?" Harry exclaimed. " Speak with some sense, Ron."  
  
" Look! Didn't you open the newspaper today?" Ron cried out.  
  
Harry shook his head. He hadn't opened the newspaper. He stared at the cover and then exclaimed to himself: " Why, it's. . . they found out about Charlie!"  
  
The front page of the newspaper blared out, in huge fat-font letters: " CHARLES WEASLEY MARKED WITH DARK MARK". Beneath was a picture of Arthur and Molly Weasley, desperately trying to fight off the invading reporters as they wanted to get a glimpse of the severely-bleeding mark on Charlie's face.  
  
" Did you tell anyone?" Ron shouted, angrier then an erupting volcano. " This could get the Ministry on our backs in no time!"  
  
" I didn't tell anyone! I kept your promise, Ron, I swear I did!" Harry cried out. He read the article to himself:  
  
From an anonymous letter to a local  
  
facility that helped distribute our  
  
newspapers, some citizen had tipped  
  
off that the Ministry is hiding a deep  
  
and dark secret behind our backs. It  
  
appears that the treacherous You-Know-  
  
Who had attacked someone else with  
  
an Avada Kedavra curse, but the curse  
  
had missed and Charles Weasley, the  
  
victim, had simply been marked with  
  
a horrid scar on his face.  
  
Though the Weasleys denied this  
  
reporter any details, it had been found  
  
that Charles had been working in  
  
Norway with dragons for a long time  
  
now. He was in charge of the section  
  
taking care of English Whitescales. With  
  
the recent death of Timothy Rower from  
  
the same department, it appears that  
  
there is more to this then it seems.  
  
There had been a dragon gone  
  
missing for a while now from Charles'  
  
department. This dragon, the rare  
  
breed of English Whitescale, had been  
  
taken by a mysterious cloaked stranger.  
  
Despite the efforts to get an interview  
  
from Charles, the Weasleys protected their  
  
son savagely. But there might be more reason  
  
for this close protection - Charles's face is  
  
covered with bandages on one side, and  
  
black liquid is seeping from the scar. When  
  
one of the photographers had exclaimed  
  
"Blood!", Molly Weasley slammed the door.  
  
There is a tie with this case and the  
  
case of Timothy Rower somewhere, and  
  
there is the odd happenings of the sighting  
  
of an English Whitescale in the sky by  
  
Muggles and wizard folk alike all over  
  
England.  
  
There will be a continuation of this  
  
article next week, when we have more  
  
scoop. For now, this faithful reporter  
  
will remain on guard for clues.  
  
Natalia Crick.  
  
Harry looked at the name. " Could that reporter be related to Rebecca in some way?"  
  
" Who cares!" Ron burst out. " My family is doomed! The Ministry is furious! They'll have my father's head, that's what they'll do!" Ron suddenly burst into tears. " My family won't be able to afford our house anymore. . . my dad will be out of work. . . and. . ." He kept sobbing.  
  
" Ron!" Harry got up and put his arm on his friend's shoulder. " Come on! Stop crying. Look, there has to be an explanation for how this was found out. I don't know who this anonymous tipster was, but we have to find him."  
  
" Or her." Ron added. " It can't always be men that are evil."  
  
Harry could sense some humor coming back into Ron. " Or her." Harry smiled. " Here, clean yourself up." He handed Ron a tissue.  
  
Harry's stomach was wringing with worry though, despite how he tried to appear optimistic. He knew Hermione would be furious with him now, since if Ron knew about Charlie then Harry would have known too. And that would mean that she was left out of all this.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry had walked with Ron to the dining hall, trying to appear as if they were unworried. In the hallway, though, people kept stopping Ron, asking if his brother Charlie was all right, and then begging if they could find out more about the case. Some people simply said that they were sorry about what happened to Charlie.  
  
Ron's lower lip trembled in worry as he sat down at the Gryffindor table, his eyes dropped low to the grainy surface of the wood.  
  
Harry knew it was no use comforting Ron, he was beyond getting comforted. Ron's ears burned as red as his hair and he looked as if he wished to fall into a ditch and die. It was rather serious, breaking the secrecy of the Ministry. Perhaps it was Fred and George that had told someone something? Maybe they had hinted off their girlfriends about it?  
  
Harry wondered if the day could get any worse. He told Ron, softly: " Hey, Ron, don't worry yourself too much. I mean, we both know that it wasn't us, so you can be happy."  
  
Ron whimpered something out like: " Happy? Yeah right!"  
  
Harry turned away from Ron and then gave a mean scowl at the group of people standing there, clutching newspapers, having questions about the article that they wished to ask Ron.  
  
" Harry!" Harry heard the familiar voice of Hermione in the crowd. She pushed forwards, the newspaper held in her hand. "Is this true? Tell me this is a prank paper." She dropped the newspaper down on the table in front of Harry.  
  
Harry couldn't look up at her as he said, quietly: " It's true."  
  
" And you didn't tell me?" Hermione cried out. She looked near tears. " Harry, I thought. . . I thought we were a team, working on this together. You had to know this, I mean, Ron had to tell you."  
  
" I promised Ron that I wouldn't tell. I couldn't break his promise." Harry said, in his defense.  
  
" So you broke my promise instead!" Hermione began to cry. "I hate you! How could you have done that? And I thought. . ." She didn't finish. Instead, she yanked the newspaper back off the table and shouted at Harry: " I'm gonna do the research on my own from now on! Good riddance!"  
  
" Hermione! Wait!" Harry shot up to his feet, trying to grasp hold of her shoulder, to explain to her.  
  
His hand landed on hers, and she slapped it away. " Leave me alone!" Hermione hissed, her eyes growing into slits.  
  
Harry knew he had no way but to leave her alone. He dropped his hand back down at his side and then turned back to Ron, who was being bombarded with questions.  
  
Dumbledore's voice finally calmed the uproar:  
  
" SILENCE!"  
  
The room slowly fell to a silence. Dumbledore looked at the dining hall with blazing-angry eyes and continued: " I will not watch you harass Ronald Weasley with insolent questions! The boy is grieving for his brother's fate, and his family's. Can't any of you have a heart?"  
  
Guilty looks crossed the faces of most of the students around Ron and they slowly moved backwards away from Ron. Ron didn't even notice this. He remained with his head down, his arms wrapped around the sides of his face, only his red hair visible.  
  
The Weasley twins were suspended, after all, so nobody could pester them. That meant. . .  
  
A few people turned to Ginny, who was silently eating dinner. Her eyes widened and she said: "Leave me alone, people!" She had also been pestered with questions.  
  
Harry saw Hermione leave the dining hall, still crying. He wanted to go after her, to calm her down, to explain, but he was at loss of words. He was ashamed with himself, too. He realized that he shouldn't have made promises that he couldn't keep.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Defense Against the Dark Arts was gloomy that day. Thea patted Ron's head sympathetically as she walked by Harry's desk. She announced to the class:  
  
" We'll be having seat changes today, due to the request of a student."  
  
Harry felt his stomach drop. He knew Hermione had made the request, she no longer wished to sit by Harry. He had hurt her feelings brutally.  
  
" I'm sorry." He mouthed to Hermione as Thea switched her seat with Lavender's. Suddenly, Thea stopped and said:  
  
" Wait. No, not with Lavender! Switch with Draco instead."  
  
" Aw, man." Draco grumbled. He was going to have to leave his seat beside Parvati, Pansy, and Hannah. Behind him was Crabbe and Goyle, his best buddies, and he liked having somewhat pretty girls around him, too.  
  
Draco gathered his things and took his seat beside Harry. Harry turned to him and said: "Hi."  
  
Draco didn't reply, he was too busy pretending that he had never been so insulted. Harry knew Draco didn't mean it, but he figured it was something to do with his pride.  
  
Thea wanted it to look a bit concealed that it was Hermione who had wished to switch, and she then switched Neville's seat and he quite accidentally now ended up sitting by Hannah. Neville was no longer a boar, and he was blushing madly when he took his seat by Hannah. She was even pinker then normal, too.  
  
Harry listened as Thea began the lesson:  
  
" Today, class, we will learn how to successfully fend off a possessed dragon. It appears that oftentimes, evil humans possess dragons so they work for them. There is a spell that won't hurt the dragon, but will protect you."  
  
The class listened intently, for this could easily help out with the recent happenings. Thea took her wand and slowly moved it upwards. "Class, follow the movements that my wand is making."  
  
They followed, their wands moving upwards too.  
  
" Now, to the left, and do a half-circle with it!" She grinned at the students.  
  
Harry took his wand and brought it up, then to the left, and made a half-circle movement. The air filled with sparkles as the wands powered up.  
  
" Move it down, up again, and shout out: Defendius Darkendum!" Thea said the words, and then her wand let out a thick white laser of light which blinded the eyes of all her students. Then, when the laser of light faded away and the students could see again, they noticed Snape had walked in the room.  
  
" Practicing defense against possessed dragons." Snape said. "Great idea, with these times."  
  
" Oh. Hello, Severus." Thea said from the front of the room. "Care to show the class another demonstration? I'm sure you're here for Potions books again?" She smiled.  
  
Snape shook his head. " Actually, I need to see a student. Neville Longbottom, please come out here with me." Snape said. Neville looked genuinely frightened as he slowly rose from his seat and then walked out to where Snape was waiting. Snape led Neville out of the room.  
  
The classroom's attention returned to Thea. She smiled warmly at them and said: "Alright, then. We can move on, I believe?"  
  
They all nodded.  
  
Thea tapped her wand on the desk, then raised it. The tip glowed with a beautiful white flame. " See this? It wasn't the beam of light that came out that was going to repel the dragon. It's this white flame."  
  
She held it out to the class. "Any of you wish to touch it?"  
  
Everyone shook their head, except Hermione. She stood and went up to touch the flame. Her fingers went right through it, and didn't get burned.  
  
" Impossible." Draco murmured quietly from Harry's side.  
  
Harry turned and saw that Draco was looking rather bored with the teacher's presentation. He raised his hand.  
  
" Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" Thea asked.  
  
" I have a question, if I may ask it." Draco stood up. "How can that little flame protect someone? It makes no sense. You'd think that the laser- light was the thing - but if that doesn't repel the dragon, how's that little puny fire going to do anything? And how come it didn't burn her hand?" Draco motioned with his hands at Hermione.  
  
Thea grinned. " Good questions, Draco, and I can answer all of them. Starting with the last one: the fire didn't burn Hermione's hand because it is a white fire, only repelling things with darkness in them. None of you should be burned by it."  
  
" Oh." Draco sat back down.  
  
" This fire will work on the dragon in a simple way. It burns with white light, which is rather odd to some of you to see. It looks rather beautiful now, but watch this." She held it up to different colored wedges. The white light was distorted and began to take the colors of the rainbow. Tiny rainbows bounced all over the wall. "There is no black in a rainbow, no gray, no white." Thea said. "At least, not when you look at it directly, am I correct?"  
  
The class nodded with her, awed.  
  
" A dragon's eye naturally distorts white light, and so the burning white flames assume the colors of the rainbow. Now, here in this room, it is harmless. But dragons usually see strictly black and white due to the fact how they distort colors to turn into whites or grays, and then objects normally white are the only ones that appear in color to dragons. Does this make sense?" Thea asked the class.  
  
The students nodded once more.  
  
" This white light burns with the force and color of millions of rainbows. It might not hurt us, but it hurts the untamed eye of a dragon. It's like how we react when we look directly at the sun." She smiled at the students, who were all awed.  
  
" This is why dragons prefer to stay in their caves or in hiding during winter. The snow is unbearable for them to look at it." Thea pulled her wand out from the colorful prisms on her desk and all the rainbows on the walls disappeared.  
  
Out in the hallway, Harry heard a muffled cry. He turned his eyes to see what was going on, but Thea noticed and said:  
  
" Harry, the presentation is taking place in the front of the room."  
  
" I think you need new glasses, Potter." Draco said.  
  
A lot of the students laughed, and Harry looked to see if Hermione was laughing. She wasn't. In fact, she was also intrigued by the muffled cry in the hallway.  
  
Thea waited until Harry turned back to face the front of the room and she then continued the presentation. She took the white light on her wand and she wrapped her hand around it. The flames burned right through her skin. " These flames will not hurt anyone but those who have the darkness in them, and they will hurt the eyes of the color blind. Thanks to these flames, the color blind can see, but most importantly, dragons are repelled by the flash of the colors it erupts inside their eyes."  
  
The class ended just then, and Thea told the students to have a nice day. Harry grabbed his books and raced from the room. He wondered where Neville had gone, since he didn't return to the room at all.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry was reluctant to practice his broom flying, but he knew he had to if he didn't want his skills to waste out. He went outside that evening, the crisp November air cold and refreshing, and flew his broom around the field.  
  
He had a lot to think about as he flew around.  
  
Neville hadn't returned to Thea's class, and Harry didn't see him at all for the rest of the day. He would have to ask Neville where he'd gone tomorrow; now Harry had other things to think about.  
  
His hands steered the broom around the field and he then ducked around a goalpost. His hands jerked upwards the wooden handle of the broom and he practiced nose-dives.  
  
One after another, he flew up and then did a sharp dive down. The fall air whipped at him, biting his cheeks frostily. He let the wind hurt his eyes, until tears streamed from them from the sharp painful blowing of the wind. By his chest, his mother's locket burned, and he moved his hand upwards to feel it through the material of his shirt.  
  
It was reassuring, knowing something of his mother's was so close to him. He bit his lower lip and then did a mighty swoop around the nearest goal post, then did a skidding halt and slowly levitated upwards. The Firebolt worked seamlessly through this routine, knowing it well.  
  
Harry had often thought that the best way to relieve yourself of guilt was NOT to do dangerous things to make up for what you did. It didn't make him feel better and the person he'd hurt didn't feel any better, either. But at that moment Harry felt like doing something dangerous and stupid.  
  
" Hermione, I'm sorry." Harry whispered, as he did a dangerous swoop dive and then pulled away from the ground in the last minute before the broom grazed the frosty soil. He sailed upwards, turned, and then dove down again. "Hagrid, I'm sorry for breaking your promise too."  
  
This time, he went so low his boots rubbed the earth and when he looked down he saw that he had shredded the leathery binding at the tip of his left boot.  
  
Harry thought again to whom he wanted to apologize, then shrugged and dove again, thinking: 'Forgive me, Hermione.'  
  
He raised his broom out of the dive and then practiced twirling around on his Firebolt. He let go of it and he swung down so he was hanging from it upside down by his knees. His glasses were sliding down so he cast a spell on them to keep them on his face. Hermione had taught him that spell . . .  
  
He flew around, hanging upside down. This could come in handy to catch a low-flying Snitch. He then let his legs go too and for a brief moment he wasn't holding on to the broom at all, fifteen feet up in the air. Then, he did a little twist and grabbed the broom with his hands instead.  
  
This was the most difficult, to switch from hanging on his hands to his legs, or vice versa. He'd done it only three times successfully, this time included.  
  
Harry closed his eyes and then made his way back onto the top of his broom. He felt the cold fall winds blast through him, and he liked this refreshing feeling. He slowly lowered his broom, deciding that he'd practiced enough.  
  
He took his Firebolt and then headed back for Hogwarts, when he heard something behind him. He turned, wondering what it was, and just managed to see a dark shape slink into the bushes. Harry called out:  
  
" Hey! Wait!"  
  
He raced after the sneak. Whomever it was, the person had no right just sneaking around after him.  
  
The cloaked person ran quickly, panting heavily, face streaked with tears. Finally, the person collapsed, and Harry was a few feet away before the human stood and began to run again. Harry's eyes darted towards the feet of the person. The person was completely barefoot!  
  
" Wait!" Harry called after it.  
  
He reached out, trying to grasp the cloak, but the person began to hiss something. Was it a chant or a spell? Harry couldn't hear much, and then suddenly felt a cold pain flash through his body, and then he saw black.  
  
A/N: Cliffhanger. Not a big one? I don't know, since I know how it's going to turn out! He he he *laughs happily* Well, get on to it! Review or the next chapter might take a long time to upload. Since it is reader's support that keeps me going. 


	16. Unexpected Visitor

Author's Note: Ah, yes, I'm really giving my fingers a workout this holiday season. I'm glad I have 2 weeks off from school, I might even finish this fic. Well, I don't own Harry Potter, I simply borrowed him and will put him back on the dusty shelf until J.K. Rowling decides to finish the fifth book for herself! * Ahem* . . . I'm an impatient person.  
  
Oh yes, a PS: One of you readers (you know who you are! He he) already noticed that the locket read LP, even though Lily wasn't married. There IS a reason behind that, actually. It isn't a mistake, it is on purpose and it will tie into the story later on. ::grins mischievously:: I see that my readers actually pay attention to my fiction's details! YAY!!!!!  
  
Oh, and another addition: I'm sorry about the little feud with Hermione, she'll get over it soon enough! Ron WILL talk to her, though she's mad at him, too.  
  
  
  
1 Chapter 16  
  
Unexpected Visitor  
  
  
  
Swirls of black slowly mixed with color. The clear sound of something ringing echoed all over, then the world seemed to swirl together into a messy mass of forgotten thoughts and feelings. Lost in these feelings were small bubbles, floating aimlessly, some shooting like bullets, others floating gracefully. In each bubble was a thought, a memory.  
  
This was how Harry's head felt.  
  
He opened his eyes, finally, and looked around. He was inside the hospital room of Hogwarts, and his body felt uncomfortably cold. Harry looked around, trying to see what had happened, to see if there was some sort of a clue that might tell him what was going on.  
  
A rippling pain crossed his forehead, the scar on his face feeling as if someone had struck him with lightning in that area. And it was hurting continually, instead of just sharp bursts of pain. He blinked away a thin mist of tears that had covered his eyes. He wasn't crying now - had he cried in his sleep?  
  
Harry pulled up the covers so that they covered him a bit closer and then he sat up, looking around him, hoping he was mistaken, that he wasn't in the hospital room.  
  
" What had happened to me?" He asked himself.  
  
His stomach was the only reply to his words, and the reply came in a low gurgle. He was hungry.  
  
" Is anyone here?" He looked around the hospital room. There wasn't anyone else there, except for some first-year at the very end of the room, whom was asleep.  
  
Harry fell back onto his pillow, his fingers tightening on the bed spread. He was now remembering how he had chased the mysterious cloaked person. The whole scene ran inside his head as if he had seen it in a movie when he was four - really jumpy, fuzzy, and the details were very sparse. He remembered one thing - the person had no shoes.  
  
Or did his mind just make that up?  
  
Did he dream that whole thing? Did he dream the last few days? Maybe he was dreaming now?  
  
His eyes rested on the table beside his bed. His glasses were there, which explained his fuzzy eyesight. He took them and pulled them on.  
  
He saw Madame Pomfrey walk into the room. She nearly dropped her little tray of antibiotic and gauze when she saw him. "Harry! Thank heavens you're finally up!" She rushed to his bedside. "Does your bead hurt? How do you feel? What happened, precisely?"  
  
" My head tingles a bit." Harry admitted. " And I feel kind of queasy. And I'm kind of fuzzy on the details of what happened." Harry then added: " I remember running, but I don't know why I was chasing someone I saw, someone in a dark cloak, and I wanted to know who it was. The person didn't want to stop, they kept running, and then. . . they stumbled, or I stumbled. Anyway, I soon caught up with them, and suddenly, something happened. My whole body seemed to freeze, and then everything went black." Harry stopped.  
  
" I can't say right now, exactly what I think it might be, but judging from how we found you. . ." She shook her head.  
  
" What? How did you find me?" Harry asked.  
  
" You were lying flat on your stomach, your eyes closed. You looked dead, dear." Madame Pomfrey shuddered. "That poor boy that found you . . ."  
  
" Who found. . ." Harry was going to ask who found him, but Madame Pomfrey continued:  
  
" Your glasses were a good few feet away, you feel with quite some force. There wasn't much physical damage to you, but there was something frightening about you. . ." She stopped. " I don't know if I should tell you."  
  
" Tell me. I'll find out anyway." Harry said.  
  
" The grass around you was burned into the shape of the Dark Mark." She patted his hand. " You rest, dear, and don't worry your head about it. I think you were simply chasing after a follower of You-Know-Who and he cast a spell to get you of his track. Nobody likes to be caught, you know."  
  
" No, I guess not." Harry replied.  
  
" Alright, hon. You sleep up, now, I'll get you some soup and then I still have to go tend to that girl over there. She fainted in Transfiguration when Professor McGonagall appeared as a cat. The girl, supposedly, has a phobia of cats. Odd." Madame Pomfrey had left him in his bed, wondering.  
  
He wondered whom it was, again, who'd found him. It was a boy, which is what he knew already. But he wanted to know who it was! Harry closed his eyes, trying to envision himself lying on the ground, the Dark Mark burned into the ground. It must have been a fearful sight!  
  
Was that cloaked person a Death Eater, then?  
  
Harry hugged the covers to himself. He hoped he wouldn't meet with one again.  
  
He watched Madame Pomfrey return with a small bowl of chicken soup. She handed it to him and then said: " I believe chicken soup can mend anything, physical and mental. So eat up." She then added: " Made it myself. I prefer giving patients the real thing, not something those kitchen elves whip up." She seemed to sour.  
  
" You're a good cook." Harry said, after sampling the chicken broth. It was a bit different then most, with little pieces of chopped chicken floating around like longs in a river. The carrot pieces bobbed up and down as he blew on the surface, the white steam floating away to infinity.  
  
" Thank you, dear." She smiled. " I added a bit more salt to yours, I figure that its better overdone then bland."  
  
" It's fine." Harry took another spoonful into his mouth.  
  
" I always wanted to be a cook, you know. I even volunteered to Dumbledore, about being the school's cook. But he says that they have perfectly fine kitchen elves." She plucked at the edge of Harry's sheets. " Oh, dear, a rip! I'll go get my needling kit." She was gone again.  
  
" What a busy lady." Harry thought to himself, as he took another spoonful of soup into his mouth. It really was delicious soup, and he now noticed a tinge of paprika in it. A/N: I make chicken soup all the time, so I know what I'm talking about when I say paprika. It is good in soup!  
  
He looked at the hospital room wall. It was fairly clear of anything but a window, a little calendar, and a poster. The poster was simply a little kitten hanging off a tree branch. Beneath it, in nice bold letters, was written: "Hang in there, baby!". The poster moved, and the kitten struggled to climb up the branch, then in the last minute ended up hanging awkwardly, suspended in the air.  
  
Madame Pomfrey was back again, this time mending away at the rip in Harry's sheets. She looked up at the poster on the wall, out of plain curiosity as to where Harry was looking, and said: "Oh! I should take that down, that first-year girl will have a fit if she sees any more cats."  
  
" No, don't. I like it. Just tell the girl there's a picture of a cat over here or something, so she avoids it." Harry said.  
  
" Alright. For you, young man." She finished mending his sheets, then shot up to her feet as someone approached the hospital room. " Who's sick now?" She asked.  
  
" Me." Someone stumbled in, clutching their stomach. Harry couldn't see the face, but the voice seemed familiar. He looked around Madame Pomfrey's rounded figure and caught sight of the person. It was Goyle.  
  
Goyle moaned and then made his way into a bed that was about a meter away from Harry's. Goyle then sat down on it, and answered the questions that Madame Pomfrey asked.  
  
" Last name's Goyle, right?" She asked.  
  
" Right." Goyle moaned.  
  
" Can you spell it for me?" She asked.  
  
" Can't you spell it for yourself?" Goyle murmured, then seeing Madame Pomfrey's serious glare, he spelled: " G - O - Y - E -L. No, that's not right. . . Goyle. . . um, G - O - I - no! Wait!"  
  
" I'll just write it the way I think, alright?" Madame Pomfrey said, not in the mood for Goyle's antics.  
  
Harry felt sorry now for Goyle. The poor guy was indeed very stupid. Madame Pomfrey then asked:  
  
" Reason for trip to hospital wing?"  
  
" Uh, well, you see. . ." Goyle thought hard. He broke out into a sweat. " It's quite a long story, ma'am."  
  
" I have all day." She sat down at the foot of Harry's bed.  
  
" Ok, it isn't a long story." Goyle rolled his eyes, then continued: " I sort of drank something, and I didn't ask anyone what was in it. I thought it was grape juice, really." Goyle moaned again, clutching his stomach. " It was a potion, though. Malfoy says that it was a swelling potion, and it only works when it makes contact with your skin, but it hurts inside now." Goyle added: "Malfoy wants to know how long I'll be here."  
  
" Who's Malfoy?" She asked. " Oh! I remember. Isn't he that tall boy, with the blonde hair?"  
  
" Sure, why not." Goyle murmured. " He sort of thinks for me, sometimes. I'm kind of slow, but he's alright with that."  
  
" That's nice of him." Madame Pomfrey didn't seem interested. "You can tell Malfoy that you'll be here for two days. It seems that the swelling potion had swelled your esophagus, I can see it now, your neck looks rather puffy. Your voice has changed, its quite lower then when I saw you three days ago." She remembered Goyle quite well. Crabbe and Goyle kept the beds warm in the hospital.  
  
" Oh. What's an esophagus?" Goyle asked. " Wait! Malfoy mentioned it. Isn't it the throat, or something?"  
  
" Right you are. The throat." She grinned and Goyle, then stood. " I'll go get my spell book and see what I can do. You rest now. Unless. . ." She smiled even wider. " . . . Can I interest you in some delicious soup?"  
  
Goyle shook his head. " I don't feel like eating."  
  
" Too bad. I hear it's good." She walked out of the room, picking up a basket of sheets on the way and another tray of gauze and antibiotics.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Goyle was lying quietly on the bed beside Harry's, and Harry wondered if he could talk to the boy. He might even find something out from Goyle. " Goyle?" Harry asked.  
  
Goyle turned his head to Harry. "What?" He asked.  
  
" Do you want to talk or something? It's rather boring in here." Harry told him, and then sat up in his bed. Harry's body seemed to burn with pain as he sat up, but he could manage.  
  
" Yeah." Goyle said and then turned so he could face Harry. "Aren't you the kid they found outside with the Dark Mark?"  
  
" That's me." Harry said, softly. " Do you know who it was that found me outside, or do you just know that I was found outside?"  
  
" I don't remember who found you." Goyle admitted. " It was some little kid, though. Nobody I know." He thought hard. "Maybe Malfoy knows. He knows a lot of things."  
  
" Yeah, I figured you'd say that." Harry thought hard. " Did Malfoy ever tell you anything about Rebecca? I assume he had to mention her, at least, since they had gone out for quite some time."  
  
" Rebecca?" Goyle's face strained as he tried to remember.  
  
" You know. Tall girl, weird accent, spooky and behaves weird?" Harry added. " Always dressed with a shawl or in robes or something?"  
  
" Oh! Yeah, that girl!" Goyle nodded to himself. " I remember her. Malfoy told me a whole bunch about her. He was really mad one time and was just ranting on and on."  
  
" What did he say?" Harry asked.  
  
" I don't remember." Goyle admitted. " I was laughing that he was mad."  
  
" That's sort of mean." Harry told him.  
  
" Malfoy doesn't care." Goyle explained. " He figures that if we laugh at something it means we think it's funny, and then that would be to an extent the use of our dormant minds."  
  
Harry laughed. " He said that?"  
  
" Yeah." Goyle added: "What's dormant mean?"  
  
" Um. . ." Harry thought about it. He wasn't quite sure of the meaning himself. He turned to face Madame Pomfrey, who was in the corner of the room now, trying to sort through the laundry bin in her hands so that the bed sheets were in one pile and the pillow covers were in the other. " Madame Pomfrey!"  
  
She looked up.  
  
" What does dormant mean?" Harry asked.  
  
" It means something that isn't in use, or asleep." She replied.  
  
" Oh. I was hoping it meant 'smart' or something." Goyle sighed. " I suppose Malfoy is right, though. I'm just not too bright."  
  
" You could surprise him now. Use the word dormant in a sentence, and the word esophagus." Harry told Goyle.  
  
" Yeah." Goyle smiled.  
  
" I need to know some more about Rebecca Crick, though. What do you know about her that might show that she's a bit crazy, or that she's up to something?" Harry asked. He realized he was desperate for information if he was questioning Goyle.  
  
" Rebecca." Goyle repeated the name to himself. "Rebecca did some funny things. Draco said she's practicing them dark spells, the ones you ain't supposed to practice!"  
  
" I know about that." Harry said.  
  
" I saw a note she gave to Draco one time. She wanted him to help her frighten you. It was something to do with your owl. Draco was real mad and told her not to do it, that it's plain crazy." Goyle grew silent.  
  
" Is that all?" Harry asked.  
  
" No." Goyle replied. "There's something I'm not supposed to say."  
  
" Tell me!" Harry pleaded.  
  
" I can't. It's a promise to Draco, and I can't break it. He made me promise not to tell anyone." Goyle said.  
  
" Oh, but you must tell me. It could help save my life, or yours, or someone else's." Harry told him. " I need to know anything you can tell me."  
  
" Alright, I'll tell you." Goyle gave in quite easily. " But you gotta keep it since its Malfoy's secret."  
  
" Fine." Harry made sure to cross his fingers behind his back. He couldn't make any promises just yet because he could never be sure as to when he could break them. " What is this big secret, now?"  
  
" Rebecca had Malfoy write notes to some girl she really be hating. She didn't want Malfoy to tell anyone to who he was writing to, and er, er. . ." Goyle trailed off. " Malfoy never did find out who she was writing them notes to."  
  
" What were the notes about? Do you remember?" Harry asked.  
  
" Nope. I just know they was threat letters. Rebecca says she wants to be the smartest, but I don't think she'd be the smartest with that other girl, what's her name. . ." Goyle stumbled through his mind to find the simple facts.  
  
" Hermione." Harry said. This made him feel sad, just mentioning her name. He missed her, and wished she wasn't mad at him.  
  
" Yeah." Goyle coughed. " My throat hurts."  
  
" Thanks for talking with me, Goyle. I appreciate it." Harry told the boy, and then laid himself back down onto his bed. Madame Pomfrey came to him with chicken soup a while later, and Harry gladly ate it. He asked her, then, when he'd be leaving the hospital room. She told him that once Dumbledore is sure that the Ministry of Magic is alright with it.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The Ministry of Magic! So it was involved in this, too? Harry shouldn't have been too surprised, but he still was. He had always hoped that he wouldn't be the one to be under investigation by the Ministry. They probably had millions of questions from him, and by now all of Hogwarts probably knew about what happened, at least briefly. He leaned back onto his pillow and closed his eyes in anger, his fists balling up and then unclenching. He didn't like having the Ministry dodging after him now, just like they were going after Charlie.  
  
How was Charlie, anyhow? Harry wondered this quite often. Harry knew that if he were under inspection by the Ministry, then he'd have no visitations from his friends, and so Ron wouldn't be stopping by to talk to him.  
  
It was odd, lying there, listening to Goyle's snoring, but not being able to do anything. He wanted to get up, to go and run to Ron. He had so many questions!  
  
Harry's eyes squeezed shut tightly, and he wondered how much longer he'd be able to sit here.  
  
" Excuse, me? Mr. Potter?" A voice pierced through his thoughts. It was a woman's voice, probably an older lady. He slowly let his eyes open again.  
  
They came into focus on a thin, wrinkled old woman with dark blue eye shadow circling her eyes. Her lips were painted an odd and cakey pink and her hair was dyed red and frosted with single white strands that penetrated the redness. She was dressed in a floral calico dress that was stitched everywhere with lace and she had a big pair of butterfly glasses. She smiled at the sight of Harry.  
  
" Who are you?" Harry asked, sitting up.  
  
" My name is Drusella Quenton and I will be asking you a few questions. It's only a couple, really." She sat down beside Harry's bed on a provided chair.  
  
" Are you from the Ministry of Magic?" Harry wanted to know.  
  
Drusella laughed. " You're a sharp one, aren't you." She fluffed his pillow and then said: " I am, actually. They send me to speak with those who are younger, you know. . ." She grinned. "I suppose it's more comforting to speak with a granny-like person then a sharp-nosed interrogator, eh?"  
  
" Uh - yeah, I guess." Harry nodded.  
  
" Can we begin?" She asked, readying a little notepad. She took out her wand and then tapped it onto the paper, and a quill appeared with which she began to jot things.  
  
" We can." Harry said. " But I have a question for you first."  
  
" For me?" Drusella stiffened. " That's not in my job description, dear. Now tell grandma everything."  
  
Harry grew frustrated. " Just because you act like a grandma won't make me tell you everything. I need to know what's going on, too!"  
  
" My, my. Madame, can you bring him some chicken soup? I believe he's a bit fiery - a bit of a fever maybe." Drusella Quenton scratched some words onto the notepad.  
  
" I'm not feverish." Harry protested as Madame Pomfrey went to get him a bowl of chicken soup.  
  
" Dear me, yes you are!" She smiled. " First question: Describe the event that occurred, if you can, in the most detail as possible, trying to avoid guesses. Strictly facts." She added, a bit uncertainly: "Won't you, honey?"  
  
Harry was feeling a bit sickened anyhow, but now he was just feeling awful. He tried to recall the incident, trying to piece things together, then began from the beginning: " I was practicing Quidditch outside, since I'm the captain and the Seeker, you know. I wanted to remain good."  
  
" Just the facts, dear. No 'I'm good' opinions, only facts." Drusella scribbled down 'Quidditch player' on the top of her paper. "Interesting." She murmured.  
  
Harry stopped, and then continued when she made a motion for him to do so. " I was finally finished practicing and then I heard something behind me, I think. Someone, or something."  
  
" You think?" She raised her eyebrows. " I want pure facts."  
  
" Alright then! I turned and saw someone in a cloak. They were watching me. I began to run after the person or whatever it was, but it got away." Harry looked down at his hands and whispered: " I chased the cloaked person since I wanted to know who it was."  
  
" Of course you would. You're a brave boy, Harry." She smiled, back to her grandmother-self, which was supposed to encourage Harry to open up. It made him feel a bit afraid of her, though.  
  
" I finally caught up with whoever it was, and all of a sudden the thing began to say something. I don't know what it said, but it made me blank out. Then I found myself in here." Harry motioned at the hospital room.  
  
" Most interesting!" She jotted things down feverishly. "Did you catch any features of the person? Did it have a male or female voice? Anything significant?"  
  
" It was barefoot." Harry said. " The voice wasn't human, it was savage, like an animal voice. I couldn't tell whether it was male or female."  
  
" Shame. It could help a lot." She jotted some more things down, then she turned her quill back into a wand and stood. "That's enough for now, Harry Potter. I believe we can let you have a few visitors. There had been a deal of Hogwarts students wishing to speak with you."  
  
" Oh." Harry tried not to sound too excited, but he was dying to see someone new, some fresh faces. He wanted to speak to people about what happened, to find things out that he had missed before.  
  
He waited to see who his first visitor would be and he wasn't surprised to see Ron and Ginny burst through the door. They crowded around his bed, and Ginny cried out, her eyes red: " Oh! Harry, are you alright?"  
  
She then blushed furiously.  
  
" I'm okay." He replied to her, then turned to Ron. " Where's Hermione?"  
  
Ron looked away from Harry's eyes when he said: "She couldn't come, she, uh. . . uh. . ." He suddenly burst out: "Oh, alright, she's still mad at you, and mad at me, too. She didn't speak to me at all today."  
  
Ginny frowned. "She's so stupid sometimes. How can she be mad at Harry?"  
  
" I broke a very important promise to her." Harry explained, his eyes meeting with Ginny's. " I feel real awful about it. Say, how is Charlie now, anyway?"  
  
Ron lowered his voice as he replied: "He's worse then ever. He's in a coma right now, he keeps dropping in and out of one, he's lost a lot of blood from his Dark Mark scar. I don't know how long he can survive." His eyes were red from tears too. " Harry, people keep bothering me about it now. A couple of Slytherin kids said my brother was in on a deal with You- Know-Who or something, but that's not true!"  
  
" Did Draco say that?" Harry asked. Harry didn't quite know why he wanted to ask this, but he felt that Draco probably wouldn't say something like that to Ron.  
  
" No. Actually. . ." Ron couldn't help but laugh. " . . . he stood up for me, a bit. I think he's honestly lost his mind."  
  
" He WHAT?" Harry couldn't help but ask.  
  
" Stood up for me." Ron said.  
  
" He wouldn't do that!" Harry protested. Did Draco honestly lose his mind? It wasn't anything like him to stand up for someone outside of Slytherin, and especially a Weasley. Ron shrugged his square shoulders and said:  
  
" He did. He told them to back off, and that if we want to laugh at something then to go look in the mirror." Ron then added: " I don't know why he'd stick up for ME, but you never know with that guy. He's been kind of weird lately."  
  
" I know." Harry took the bowl of chicken soup off the little table at the side of his bed and he tasted it. " You should try Madame Pomfrey's chicken soup. It's delicious."  
  
" Right." Ron didn't seem too interested in it.  
  
Ginny smiled and said: " I'd try some."  
  
Harry handed her his soup and then took an extra spoon from the table. " Take it. I'm not hungry anymore." She couldn't have been more delighted to get a bowl of soup. Harry watched her take a spoonful and she said:  
  
" You're right, it is good."  
  
Her smile was warm.  
  
Harry smiled back at her, then looked at Ron again. "Ron, I have a question. Did you notice Rebecca Crick doing anything out of the ordinary lately that I might have missed?"  
  
" Not that I know of." Ron replied.  
  
" Oh." Harry tried not to appear disappointed, but it leaked through.  
  
" Why? Do you expect her to run into the school one day and just go and kill you or something? I mean, I know she's an oddball at times but I don't think she'd honestly kill you." Ron said.  
  
" You never know." Harry told him.  
  
" She scares me." Ginny spoke up. " I heard her talking to Cho the other day, when they brought you in here. You were out for at least a good 30 hours or so."  
  
" What did she say to Cho?" Harry asked.  
  
" Nothing intelligent, I gotta tell you." Ginny cleared her throat, then continued: " I can't believe Charlie was working in Norway at the time that he was attacked by You-Know-Who. He's normally back in Romania, where it's safer. He always loved those Whitescales."  
  
" Romania! We need to keep an eye on his dragon place there, too, then. I totally forgot that he used to work in Romania!" Harry exclaimed.  
  
" Nothing can possibly happen there. They transported most of their dragons to Norway already, for the winter. They have this beautiful 'inside- garden' in Norway; did I tell you about it? It's prefect, with rows of greenhouses. It's a dragon's heaven." Ron smiled happily.  
  
" That's a relief. One less thing to watch out for." This was cheering news for Harry.  
  
" Alright, dears, time to go." Madame Pomfrey told them. Ginny and Ron stood, and after saying their farewells, they went down the stairs to their next classes again. Harry was left to his thoughts again. He realized he forgot to ask them who found him and about Neville - why didn't Neville come back?  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
There was a swarm of people coming to visit Harry throughout the day. Evening came, and the clock at the far end of the room tolled out seven. Harry didn't expect anyone else to come see him by now, but was mildly surprised when Madame Pomfrey bustled in, saying:  
  
" Harry, would you like to take in your last visitor?"  
  
" Sure." Harry said, hoping it was Neville or Hermione. He hadn't seen either of them at all that day, and hoped they'd come at least now then never.  
  
It wasn't either of them, though. For in the darkness of the shadowy entrance, the flash of two icy blue eyes caught Harry's attention.  
  
" Draco!" He exclaimed. " What are you doing here?"  
  
" I came to see Goyle, and I figured since you're here, then I might as well see what's going on with old Scar-Face, too." Malfoy replied, in a tired voice. He walked into the room, right past Harry's bed, and then turned his back to Harry and looked at Goyle. Goyle opened his eyes, and then said:  
  
" Malfoy!"  
  
" Yeah, that's right. So, what did you do now?" Malfoy demanded to know.  
  
" I drank a Swelling Potion." Goyle replied. " It made my. . . what's that word, Harry?"  
  
" Esophagus." Harry said.  
  
" It made my esophagus swell up." Goyle finished the sentence with a proud smile. " And I found out what the word dormant means, too."  
  
" Great." Malfoy murmured, obviously not impressed at all. He shook his head sadly. " Goyle, Goyle, Goyle. . . you're a sad sight. Just when we get our prank up and going, either you or Crabbe gets stuck in the hospital wing. Is it just my bad luck?"  
  
" I'm sorry." Goyle told him.  
  
" Don't worry about it. I guess we can try it out in a month or so. December sounds like a lucky month." Draco crossed his arms, and then turned back to Harry. " Tough luck, Potter. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that when wee little Potter goes outside, plays a game of tag with some weirdo, and falls down, the whole Ministry steps in."  
  
" It wasn't a game of tag, and. . ." Harry stopped. He didn't have the nerves to fight with Draco. " Just forget it."  
  
" Really, though, you're not getting anywhere with anything lately. Now that what's-her-face isn't working with you anymore, you're stuck in the gutter with your whole mystery." Draco seemed to have a good idea of what Harry was up to in the past few weeks.  
  
" What mystery?" Harry choked out, trying to act casual.  
  
" You know what mystery. You don't think I didn't notice anything odd when you walked all over the place with books on dragons?" Draco shook his head. " You're real bad at hiding things. You might have just gone right up to Rebecca and asked her straight out what she was up to."  
  
" What do YOU know about this?" Harry felt defensive.  
  
" Goodness. Temper, Potter." Draco rolled his eyes. " I'm just saying that it's really damn obvious what you're up to."  
  
" Then what do you propose I should do?" Harry asked.  
  
" First of all, you should forget on relying on any of the Weasleys. They've gone bananas over their own problems. I don't know how much you know already, but I don't think you have much on Rebecca." Draco pointed out.  
  
" I know she'd been practicing Dark Spells in her room." Harry replied. " I know that she had a book on English Whitescales. And I know something else."  
  
" What?" Draco asked.  
  
" I don't think I should trust you." Harry turned away from Draco. He felt that he could trust Draco, but judging from Draco's ways, he worried about telling anything personal or important to him.  
  
" Is it something to do with your owl?" Draco saw how Harry's face clearly revealed the answer. " Good God, Potter, you just found THAT out? That's ALL? I figured you'd have more then that figured out."  
  
Draco leaned back on the bed frame. Goyle stared stupidly from Harry to Draco, not knowing what was going on. Draco's eyes closed as he lost himself deep in his thoughts.  
  
" I think that it's a pretty big thing. And you probably don't know all the details on the owl thing. I know a bit more on it." Harry said. Harry knew what he meant: the fact that it was his godfather's owl that ended up getting killed, and not Hedwig. A/N: Yay! I'm spelling the name right!  
  
" I'm considering making you an offer." Draco said, after a while. " I know that you don't have any connections when it comes to being able to find things up, under-ground secret kind of things." Draco began.  
  
" What offer?" Harry questioned.  
  
" I think I just might want to help you." Draco said, his eyes for once showing an earnest glow.  
  
  
  
A/N: Yes, this is a good place for me to stop, don't you think? He he. 


	17. An Ally

1 A/N: No, I don't own any of these characters except Drusella, which is part of the Ministry, which I DON'T own so I probably don't own Drusella either. Um, yeah . . .  
  
2 Chapter 17  
  
An Ally  
  
  
  
" I don't believe you. Why would you want to help ME?" Harry demanded to know. Draco shrugged in reply.  
  
" I don't know, myself. I don't know. . . pity? It could be pity." Draco thought about it, his eyes flickering. " Maybe it's good will, but I don't think I have any . . ." He laughed bitterly.  
  
" How can you help me, though?" Harry asked.  
  
" First things off, I know that you don't have anyone else to rely on. Without that Granger girl and that Weasley kid, you don't have anyone. Neville doesn't know his ass from his elbow and Colin can't say a sentence without mentioning his camera." Draco had a point, even if it was a point cruelly made. " Besides, I know enough on Rebecca Crick to get her swamped."  
  
" Really? Like what?" Harry asked.  
  
" First of all, she despises both you and Mudblood." Draco watched Harry's facial muscles tighten in anger and he said: "What? She is one."  
  
" Don't call her that." Harry ordered.  
  
" I can call her whatever I want." Draco replied, then continued: " She wanted to creep you out, to keep you from playing as captain. She tried to kill your owl, Henpeck or whatever you named it."  
  
" Hedwig." Harry corrected.  
  
" Whatever." Draco murmured, then continued: " I know she didn't kill Hen - Hedwig, since I saw you with your owl. Of course, you're not the sharpest crayon in the box, are you, Potter? You honestly want the entire school to believe that your owl's dead, when you walk around half the time with it on your shoulder?"  
  
Harry realized he had been careless.  
  
" And another thing. Rebecca can't stand that Granger is smarter then her. She hates the idea. She told me herself." Draco grinned. "Right before she kissed me, too."  
  
Harry grimaced at the mental picture that crept up into his mind. It wasn't a very pretty sight. " So Rebecca wrote those notes to Hermione?"  
  
" Nope. I did." Draco admitted. " Swear you won't say it to anyone, or I'll have you hanged." The words hung in the air, and Harry knew that Draco meant business.  
  
Harry nodded slowly. " I noticed that the paper had your father's crest on it, and it was sort of in your handwriting. You write sort of girlish."  
  
" Shut up, Potter. At least I can read my own notes." Draco was referring to last week, when Harry was to read his notes to his Potions class so that Snape could give him a mark on his note-taking. Harry couldn't even read his own name, that's how messy they were. Instead of saying 'Harry', he had said 'Harpy'.  
  
Harry felt his ears redden.  
  
" Rebecca tried to set me up, I know it. She told me she wanted to write the notes to a girl she hated. Rebecca insisted that I wrote the notes, saying that the girl wouldn't recognize the handwriting then." Malfoy frowned. " She knew Granger would try to find out who wrote them. She went as far as to get a paper with the Malfoy Crest on it." Malfoy's hands were in fists now.  
  
" So you're in this for revenge, too." Harry said.  
  
" Precisely." Malfoy's eyes were burning with rage. " Nobody messes with me. I can get MYSELF into trouble fine enough. I don't need to be set up for it."  
  
Harry laughed at that.  
  
" You think it's funny, do you?" Malfoy looked at Harry.  
  
" Sort of." Harry replied.  
  
Malfoy scoffed and then continued: " I figured out that Granger got the letters, since I heard you in the library, talking about it. I got out of there right away, of course, I'm not stupid enough to just stand there."  
  
Harry asked: " Why were you in the library?"  
  
" I had to write that stupid paper for Trelawney. She had me write a 10-page essay on how palm reading does predict the future and how it does tell the truth. Baloney." Malfoy muttered.  
  
" Oh."  
  
" Anyhow. . ." Malfoy's lips twitched upwards at the corners, just briefly. " . . . You probably don't know that Rebecca insists on wearing her shoes, all the time, no matter what. She never takes them off, not even when she sleeps."  
  
" Why?" Harry asked.  
  
" I don't know." Malfoy replied. " I figured there had to be a reason. And I do know that she studied English Whitescales in Beuxbaxton. That's what she told me."  
  
" But. . . Beauxbaxton students should have FRENCH accents, right?" Harry asked.  
  
" I suppose." Malfoy shrugged. " That doesn't matter though, does it?"  
  
" What country is she originally from, anyway? You can't make me believe she's from Britain." Harry said.  
  
" She never told me." Malfoy admitted.  
  
" So, what else can you tell me that could be significant?" Harry asked. He watched as Malfoy brushed back a few light strands of hair.  
  
Draco was lost in thought. He paced from Harry's bed to Goyle's, and then back again. Goyle stirred so that he could see his close friend. Draco motioned for him to keep sleeping, though, and Goyle obliged.  
  
Finally, Draco said: " I think she might be involved with You-Know- Who."  
  
" Voldemort!" Harry breathed.  
  
Malfoy flinched.  
  
" Sorry." Harry dropped his voice to a low murmur: " Do you know about her family past? Maybe her family has a history with You-Know-Who. It could be a reason for why she might hate me, too."  
  
" She's not how I imagine death eaters looking." Malfoy replied.  
  
" Of course." Harry remembered Rebecca in his mind. Despite her heavily painted eyelashes and red-painted lips, she was rather beautiful. Harry felt his stomach knot up at this thought. Hermione. . . think of Hermione. . . his mind buzzed guiltily. There were catches in having a girlfriend.  
  
They both were silent.  
  
" I liked her, though." Malfoy admitted. "She had this dark humor. I suppose she sort of used me though." He sighed.  
  
Harry looked at Madame Pomfrey, who had walked into the room just then. " Alright, boys, wrap it up. Harry needs his sleep."  
  
" How cute. Have a nice nap, Potter." Draco teased, his eyes rolling upwards, silver-blonde hair shimmering in the moonlight streaming through the windows. He made a point by getting up just then and next he walked out, cold and nonchalant. He always had a way of making his leave or entrance without appearing to care about anyone or anything - and it impressed Harry.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry thought long and hard about how Draco Malfoy wanted to help him. It was an odd choice for an ally. Draco had never been his friend, though they weren't publicly 'enemies' at the time, either. Draco, of course, had his revenge through this on Rebecca. Harry could see why Draco would want revenge on her - she was, indeed, the one that put him through a lot of trouble. He could have been expelled for the things she had him go through.  
  
Who was the person that Harry saw, though? This question suddenly floated to the top of all of Harry's other ones. The person could have been a Death Eater. Why was the person barefoot? Did this have a connection to Rebecca Crick?  
  
Harry fell asleep with these stormy thoughts.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The next day, Drusella returned to question Harry again. This time, she was dressed in yet another exaggerated granny get-up. Her eyes peered at Harry through the odd-shaped glasses as she said: " Hello, dear. I came back with some more questions for you!"  
  
" Lucky me." Harry whispered bitterly.  
  
She wagged her finger at him. " Now, now, Harry! This is important. The Ministry of Magic needs to know." She spoke slowly, as if he were four.  
  
" Talk to me like I'm fifteen, woman." Harry exploded.  
  
Her lips tightened into thin slivers. She reminded Harry of Malfoy when he was really angry about something. Then, she said: " Fine, then." Her words stung, oddly enough. " I'll speak with you as an adult. But I hope you know it isn't my choice to be here. The Ministry does some weird things to its workers, and I'm not going to disobey orders just because I feel its inappropriate." She pulled off her glasses. " I don't wear glasses, anyhow." Drusella smiled.  
  
Harry smiled back, finally satisfied with talking to Drusella. The whole bit about feeling more comfortable with a grandmother image wasn't true.  
  
" So, what are the questions?" Harry asked.  
  
" First of all, I want you to describe anything particular about that figure you were chasing again. Is there anything your ears caught, a rhythm in their chanting, maybe?" Drusella was about to add 'dear', then bit her tongue. She had grown used to her grandmother form.  
  
Harry closed his eyes, trying to remember. " My scar felt tingly when I was by the person. I remember that the voice was animal, a hissing sort of voice. Not a snake-voice, I'd have been able to understand that."  
  
" Ah. Right, you are a Parselmouth, am I correct?" Drusella asked.  
  
" Right." Harry nodded curtly. " It's a bit of an odd characteristic of mine, really . . ."  
  
" Please, only facts." Drusella said in a no-nonsense voice.  
  
" Sorry." Harry said, and then continued: " I couldn't tell if it was a man or woman, as I said before. But I do know that it wasn't a child, it had to be someone older then me. It was a very adult posture." Harry added quickly: " They had no shoes. I suppose the feet were sort of male's feet. They were a bit hairy, and the toes all crooked and dirty."  
  
She wrote that down. " Good! You're beginning to remember things, then."  
  
" Yes." Harry agreed.  
  
" So the feet tilt towards the fact that it was a male." She wrote that down. " Did you remember anything else, in particular?"  
  
" No." Harry replied. " Can I leave the hospital wing now? I'm fine, really! And who was the boy that found me?"  
  
" Oh! The boy that found you?" She smiled. " I suppose I can leak out some information to you, Harry. It was a little second year - Dennis Creevey. He nearly died of fright."  
  
" Poor Dennis." Harry commented.  
  
" I know." She nodded. " We feel we should tell you some other things, too, such as that we believe that a Death Eater attacked you, though we don't know how one even got onto Hogwarts grounds. It could possibly be one of the students, though I don't know how such a young child could be one." She said 'we' as in referring to herself and for the entire Ministry of Magic.  
  
" I also want to know anything you can tell me about Charlie Weasley; you know, the guy that had the Dark Mark scarred onto his face?" Harry said.  
  
" Oh! Him." She grew stern-faced. " I'm begging the Ministry to release his case. We are trying to match the leftover magical waste and powders inside the scar to an actual wand, but it could take weeks."  
  
" Doesn't anyone care about Charlie's health?" Harry cried out.  
  
" I'm sorry, I cannot continue this interview." She stood abruptly. " I can only give out a certain amount of information, and I cannot cross any lines that the Ministry had drawn for me as to what I can release to you and what I cannot."  
  
" The Ministry. . ." Harry had a sudden dislike to it now. "When, at least, can I leave this place?"  
  
" In a few days, Harry. We have to process the information on you, too." Drusella replied. Harry felt infuriated.  
  
" A few days? Sort of like what you said about Charlie? It's been over two months now, and you're not doing bull about him!" Harry cried out.  
  
" My sincerest apologies." She replied, stiffly, and left the hospital wing.  
  
Goyle croaked from the bed beside Harry's: " What's sincere mean?"  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry wished that he wasn't all alone in the hospital wing. Ron had come to visit him four times, and Ginny came six (she always had something for him, either a Chocolate Frog or some jellybeans). Draco didn't come back for two days. Then, he returned the fifth day after Harry had been first admitted into the hospital wing.  
  
Harry had never been so happy to see Draco in his life. The moment the other boy walked into the room, Harry cried out: "Did you find anything out? Anything at all?"  
  
" Calm down, Potter, before you wet yourself." Draco replied, coolly. He walked all the way inside the room, until he was seated on the bed across from Harry's, and only then did he begin to speak: " I didn't do a single thing to help you."  
  
" What? How do you expect us to be able to do anything if you're . . ."  
  
" Shut up, will you? I'm not done." Draco interrupted him. "Don't you know anything? You DON'T interrupt ME and get away with it."  
  
" Sorry." Harry sat back in his bed, his back pressed against the wooden backboard. It was cold and hard, and the wood smelled richly of birch. Harry tried not to appear impatient as Draco reveled in how he was making Harry so frustrated.  
  
" I'm not going to just go and scour the books for you, Potter. You have to do something, too." Draco told him.  
  
" How can I? I'm stuck in here, remember?" Harry grumbled. "The Ministry says. . ."  
  
" The Ministry doesn't have to KNOW if you leave." Draco's words chilled Harry down to the spine. Harry suddenly realized what Draco was hinting at - they could make a stealthy, in-the-middle-of-the-night escape.  
  
Draco continued after a few seconds of letting the previous information sink in: " I know that I don't even have to be doing this, so I'll only be working on your little case if you do something, too." Draco crossed his legs and sat Indian-style, his head propped on his arm in thought. " I just need to know if you have any knowledge of casting Invisibility Spells."  
  
" None." Harry shook his head.  
  
" Drat." Draco grumbled. " I could shove you in a sack and pretend I'm Santa Claus - - "  
  
Harry burst out laughing.  
  
" Hey. I'm thinking here." Draco said, with a smile.  
  
" Oh." Harry fell silent.  
  
" If there was some way to make you invisible." Draco mused. " Make both of us invisible, actually, since then it would be odd if I'm walking down the hall talking to some invisible person."  
  
Harry tried not to laugh. He had never thought Draco had much of a sense of humor, but he was proven wrong. Harry thought hard. " I don't think there is a spell that can do that, at least, not from what we learned so far in school."  
  
" Pity." Draco used the word as if he was saying an entire sentence.  
  
" I wish I paid attention in Potions. Didn't Snape talk about it?" Harry asked.  
  
" Who knows? Is there anyone who really pays attention to that old buzzard's lessons?" Draco wanted to know.  
  
" I thought you liked Potions!" Harry exclaimed. He had always associated Potions with Draco, actually, since Draco always seemed to get favorite treatment in that class. Draco was always shown in Snape's class as the attentive, deserving pupil, at least according to the professor. Now Harry couldn't understand how Draco could not appreciate being favored.  
  
" I despise it. I don't really like school much, I believe I know enough already to make it through life." Draco said. " I can pretend I like Potions rather well, at times. Its nice having Snape favor me, actually. Who doesn't like a nice mark for doing absolutely nothing?" He laughed wryly.  
  
Harry smiled. " I suppose."  
  
Suddenly, Harry remembered something crucial - the Invisibility Cloak! But would he dare tell Draco about it? Draco wasn't nearly the trustworthy companion, and he couldn't just tell him all his secrets right off. He didn't even know if he could trust him entirely yet!  
  
" What's wrong with you, Goyle?" Draco suddenly burst through Harry's thoughts. Draco was looking at Goyle with contempt, since Goyle was letting out a low, pained moan and his eyes were rolling up into his head.  
  
" My stomach. . ." Goyle groaned out.  
  
Harry shot up out of the bed and then cried out: "Madame Pomfrey! Madame Pomfrey, Goyle's going to throw up again!"  
  
Goyle's eyelids twitched, and his mouth slowly fell open, the tongue sticking out, and he let out a cough that racked his body. Then, Goyle grasped for a white bowl on the side of his bed and was ready to use it for not-so-pleasant purposes when Draco said: "Hold on."  
  
He pulled his wand out and then tapped Goyle's head. "Vomitius Healus." Goyle suddenly stopped groaning. His stomach let out an odd gurgle, but he otherwise seemed a lot better now. He glanced at Draco and said: "What did you do?"  
  
" It's something I picked up. Keeps a person from vomiting." Draco's face twisted into a look of discomfort. "Don't ask how I know it, since it's not a pleasant story." Harry didn't ask, and wasn't going to, since he could tell already that it was an unpleasant story.  
  
Madame Pomfrey had run into the room, and seeing Goyle's odd recovery, she exclaimed: "The Vomitius Healus curse! Brilliant! Who used it?"  
  
Draco raised his hand, awkwardly.  
  
" Mr. Malfoy!" She was surprised. " Well, nice job, there. I couldn't have done it better myself." She sat down beside Goyle and patted his back. " Would you like me to bring you some chicken soup, dear?"  
  
Goyle shook his head. " I think I'll go to sleep, if you don't mind, lady." Then, he turned over and fell asleep.  
  
" Poor fellow. He's horribly tired. Tossed and turned all night, and then sleeps the day away now." Madame Pomfrey shook her head and then stood to leave the room.  
  
Malfoy and Harry were left almost alone again, so that they'd be able to continue speaking.  
  
" I think I might ask around for an Invisibility Potion, or something. . ." Draco suddenly shook his head. " No, but then everyone will think I'm going to do something bad and then they'll not tell me anything."  
  
Harry was now greatly debating whether to tell Draco about his Invisibility Cloak. Finally, he decided to do just that. "Draco, I think I have to tell you something."  
  
" What?" He looked at Harry with a curious face.  
  
" Promise on everything, on your Malfoy honor, that you won't tell?" Harry asked.  
  
Draco's eyes widened. Harry knew that if Draco swore on the Malfoy honor, he would never break that oath. Draco would probably rather die then blemish the Malfoy name. Harry watched him nod.  
  
" Swear it." Harry demanded. A nod meant nothing.  
  
" Alright. I swear on the Malfoy honor." Draco said, a bit reluctant. Draco didn't know what he was getting into, after all.  
  
" In my first year, I received an Invisibility Cloak." Harry began. " It was my father's before me, and I don't know who's before that."  
  
" Was that the reason I saw your stupid head floating in Hogsmeade?" Draco exclaimed.  
  
" Yep." Harry nodded.  
  
" I ought to kill you! It caused me weeks of puzzlement, you dimwit." Draco huffed out, his arms crossing. "Really, how childish, spooking innocent people like that."  
  
" Be quiet and let me finish!" Harry said, harshly. Draco's expression grew to a horrified one, and Draco was ready to say something mean to Harry about telling him to be quiet, but Harry quickly began to speak again:  
  
" I think that if you can manage to bring the Invisibility Cloak up here, we can sneak out at night and go to the library and look some things up."  
  
" A good plan and all, but. . . where is this cloak, Mr. Genius?" Malfoy asked.  
  
Harry gulped. " In my bureau, past the Gryffindor common room."  
  
" Exactly. You don't think I'll be able to go into the Gryffindor tower unnoticed now, do you?" Draco questioned.  
  
" Uh, I suppose not." Harry said. Now he was more stumped then ever. " I guess it would give everyone an awesome fright, especially in the Gryffindor common room, if you were to just walk in."  
  
" I could try and get in there while everyone's asleep." Draco finally said.  
  
Harry didn't want to tell this to Draco, but he didn't think he should be telling a Slytherin the Gryffindor password. It had been decided that this week's password was 'Frog Mucus', which was something made up by the Weasley twins. Harry looked down at the sheets and said: " I don't think I should tell you the password."  
  
" The password!" Draco said, remembering the single obstruction that kept anyone unwanted out of the Gryffindor common room. " I completely forgot about that." He then pushed back his light blonde hair again, for it had fallen forwards across his forehead again. Harry realized that it could be forgiven if the week's password was given away to Draco.  
  
" Maybe I could tell you, if you don't use it for any WRONG purposes?" Harry said, hoping that Draco would keep his word.  
  
" I don't know. . ." Draco thought about it. The fact that he'd have access to a rival house's common room was tempting, after all. Draco finally sighed and said: "Alright, I do think I'll just have a look around, though!"  
  
" You can look around at things, but don't look through anything." Harry had a sudden worried thought that Draco would discover his photo album, with Hermione's picture surrounded by little hearts, which he'd drawn in by a felt-tipped red marker.  
  
" Fair enough." Draco said. " So what's the password?"  
  
Harry hesitated, then said: "Frog Mucus."  
  
" Amusing." Draco grinned. " Slytherin has the foulest passwords, I really think they need a bit of a touching-up."  
  
" What are they?"  
  
" Must I tell you?" Draco asked.  
  
" I told you the Gryffindor password." Harry countered, his mind bent on finding out what could be so interesting about the Slytherin passwords.  
  
" Well. . ." Draco reflected. " IN the past, they were some odd things - I remember 'Potter Stinks' back in second year. 'Dumbledore is a Loon' worked for a few hours, but the portrait grew upset about it." Malfoy grinned. " We also had 'Blood and Gore', which was an odd choice."  
  
" Not very friendly passwords, are they?" Harry said.  
  
" Nope." Malfoy seemed pleased. " Now! Tell me, precisely, where you hid your little cloak. If you want me to find it, then tell me exactly. It's not easy to search aimlessly for a rag in the middle of the night."  
  
" It isn't a rag, it's a perfectly good cloak." Harry said, tired of Draco's wisecracks just a bit. " I put it in my bureau drawer, the top one. It's by a pair of khakis. I had to move the cloak since Neville's been having so many accidents lately that it's hard to keep cleaning things up and NOT find the cloak."  
  
" So it's in your drawer." Draco sighed. " I guess I'm stuck flipping through your clothing, like some sort of trash-picker." He actually shuddered.  
  
Harry shook his head. " Really, Draco, you like to make everything sound as if it's a torture for you."  
  
" Who says it isn't?" He asked, standing up. His eyes stopped on his wand, hidden in his robes. He pulled it out and then swung it through the air. " I guess I'll get going before anyone finds out I've been up here TALKING with Potter." He seemed disgusted with himself.  
  
" Malfoy?" Harry asked.  
  
" What?" He turned, his wand readied. A series of sparkles fluttered from the tip, and he frowned.  
  
" Why did you stick up for Ron and Ginny, when the other Slytherins were teasing them?" The question had bothered Harry for a while.  
  
" So Weasley told you." Draco's cheeks reddened. " I stuck up more for Ginny then anyone, she was there with him, you know."  
  
" I see." Harry smiled.  
  
" You take that grin off your face, Potter." Malfoy threatened. "You forget that I even said that, in fact."  
  
Harry nodded and said: " Don't worry, it's already forgotten."  
  
Malfoy left the room, and Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing into his pillow. So Draco Malfoy, official Weasley-hater, might have a bit of a crush on Ginny Weasley! Or perhaps it was just his Malfoy honor to protect a girl? But he didn't seem too enthralled in sticking up for Hermione - he was rather doing just the opposite.  
  
" I guess I'll never know some things." Harry whispered to himself, as Madame Pomfrey dimmed the lights in the room.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry sat there, hoping Hermione would forgive him. It hurt him deep inside to think that he might have mortally upset her. He always cared for her a bit more then he let on, even. Sometimes she would make his stomach just melt.  
  
The remnants of their evening sitting together in front of the crackling fire in the common room were only a bowl with melted chocolate lining the bottom, a few Kisses wrappers melted into the mix.  
  
Harry could only close his eyes and try to remember her, since it had been about a week now since he had last seen her. He could see her thoughtful, intelligent eyes. This was the first thing he remember about her. He always thought it was silly, the way people called eyes 'windows to the souls'. But with Hermione, this was true. Hermione's eyes were windows. They showed her gentle, yet great intelligence that beamed through her, radiant as a rainbow. They blazed with golden sparkles when she was angry and glowed with a subtle shine when she was happy. They were lined with her tears when she was sad.  
  
He wondered if she was thinking of him, too. Was she sitting in the common room, gazing out the window, thinking of Harry, flying across the sky on his Firebolt, sending branches of leaves into a wild tumult as he flew by them. Harry hoped she was thinking of him, and he hoped she was considering going to visit him.  
  
It was growing dark, and Harry wondered how Draco would possibly get into the common room. Would he be caught and face getting thrown from school? Would he be able to find the cloak, deep inside the depths of Harry's bureau drawer?  
  
Harry tossed over onto his side and he finally fell asleep to troubled, dizzying dreams.  
  
  
  
A/N: Okay the next chapter will be Draco breaking in to Gryffindor Common Room and rummaging through Harry's stuff. I promise it will be funny at least a bit (I like adding humor to my stories). It will not be about Harry, it will fix on Draco's endeavors. Its for the purpose of the plot, since I am kinda tired of writing about Harry all bored and waiting in the common room. 


	18. Mission: Impossible

1 A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of these characters. J.K. Rowling does, though.  
  
2  
  
3 Chapter 18  
  
Mission: Impossible  
  
  
  
Draco waited in the warm comfort of his bed, his mind running the Gryffindor portrait password over and over, trying to make sure he can remember it. " Frog Mucus. Frog Mucus." He whispered to himself, tugging the covers up around his neck. He couldn't let any of the other Slytherins see he was in bed in his clothes. They'd figure he would be sneaking out, and then naturally they'd want to be in on whatever he was up to.  
  
He watched as the other Slytherins filled in their beds. Some stirred through their sleep still, others fell asleep like logs. Being a Malfoy, he was suspicious. He couldn't just assume they were asleep, he had to be completely sure. He was prepared for this. His fingers grasped at a bag of jellybeans under his bed, which he bought in Hogsmeade. It wasn't for him to eat, he thought it would be funny to pelt his roommates with them while they were asleep. He could see it now:  
  
The room fills with light, his roommates awake, rub their fingers through their hair, and end up finding jellybeans tucked in odd places. "What in blazes? Why is there a jellybean in my hair?" Draco chuckled to himself and then readied his first jellybean.  
  
He wanted to simply test his fellow Slytherins on how deeply asleep they were. Readying an interesting bogey-flavored one, he aimed at Goyle's nose. Goyle had been returned to the Slytherin room that afternoon after Madame Pomfrey decided he was well enough.  
  
The jellybean sailed through the air and missed Goyle by a mile. It clattered off the wall and rolled away somewhere into the dust that dominated the floor beneath their beds.  
  
Draco sighed and then dug out another bean. This one was a bit different - yellow in color. Lemon, the one flavor that he actually liked. He wasn't much for candy; he figured that if he wanted to maintain a cavity- free, white smile then he should lay off of the sweets.  
  
He let the lemon-flavored jellybean fly across the room. It bounced off Crabbe's forehead and then fell into the open snoring mouth of the first year in the bed beside Crabbe's.  
  
Draco grimaced. "Gross." He thought, and then figured that at least Crabbe and Goyle were asleep. He searched the jellybean bag for another one, but found it empty. " What the. . ." He turned it upside down. Half of a red jellybean tumbled out. Someone had left it behind after taking one bite. Judging from the appearance, it must have been chili pepper.  
  
Draco was furious. He was sure that Crabbe and Goyle had been eating out of the bag, they were the only ones brave (and stupid) enough to mess with a Malfoy's things. Draco, of course, never really did anything to them as punishment for it, since he knew they probably didn't even see the wrong in what they did. Instead, he decided to take a chance and sneak out right then and there.  
  
He stood up, the springs of his bed creaking. His body froze, tensed. Nothing else in the room stirred. A soft wheezing snore escaped Goyle's mouth. Goyle still complained his throat was a bit sore, but after having your entire esophagus swell up, Draco figured it should hurt a bit.  
  
Draco continued his way across the room, moving like a cat, every muscle measured, every step calculated. He froze again when he heard a murmur: "Wait. . ."  
  
He looked around his shoulder at the oddity that had given out that whisper. It was the other Slytherin first year. His name was Gregory and he often talked through his sleep. Draco shrugged and kept going.  
  
The Slytherin portrait swung open before him and he then stepped out into the hallway. It was freezing cold, and a spider was creeping across a lamp in the corner of the hallway, casting a giant and hairy image onto the wall.  
  
Draco rubbed his hands together and then made his way down the hallway. It was a winding path. Then, up the stairs, to the left. . . he knew the way, though rather it was strange how he did, since he never really walked by the Gryffindor portrait much, except on the way to his Transfiguration class, or by accident.  
  
" Crud." He murmured, as he stubbed his toe on something. He looked down and saw it was a book, old and dusty. He picked it up, and then opened it. It had a warning that it belonged in the Forbidden Section of the library.  
  
He looked at the title: Guide to Death Spells. Draco shrugged and dropped the book back down. It fell down into a massive puddle and then slowly grew wet. He didn't care, it wasn't his book, and besides, if someone caught him with it they'd think he took it. He didn't need that.  
  
His hands traced the wet mossy stones of the walls as he now headed up another flight of steps. The steps were so old they crumbled in some places. Just as he reached the top, the staircase began to switch. It moved away from the wall and took position in the place of another one. The one that was there before took position by the wall.  
  
" Oh, great." Draco murmured, his eyes taking in the new surroundings now.  
  
He tried to find his way back to where he was going before, then put his hands in his jeans pockets. He was completely lost. He leaned on the wall behind him and thought to himself: " If I was a Gryffindor, where the heck would I go?"  
  
The only answer was his angry breath escaping his nose.  
  
" Damn." He kicked at the bookshelf beside him. It suddenly swung inwards and revealed a secret passage. Draco smiled and thought: 'I ought to kick things more.' He walked into the passage he had opened for himself, then looked around.  
  
It was one of the many secret passages Hogwarts had, and he wasn't surprised. Filch had many of these made for himself so he could always pop up into student's faces and scare them senseless.  
  
He walked down to the end of it and found a solid wall, thought he really found it with his fingers since it was pitch black. He figured it could just be another trick bookshelf, so he took out his wand and whispered: "Lumos!" A light filled the area around him and now he pressed on the wall. It swung open and he then found himself standing in front of a large painting of the Gryffindor coat-of-arms. He was close, he knew it.  
  
Draco kept going down this new hallway and then turned to find the bookshelf he had pushed open to get out here slowly closing.  
  
Soon he was standing in front of the portrait of the fat lady. He thought vaguely to himself: "What was it again? Frog Blood?"  
  
The fat lady stirred and then took sight of Draco standing before the portrait, staring into space, lost in thought. The fat lady hadn't seen this handsome boy before, and she finally said: "Who are you?"  
  
Draco was startled out of his thoughts, and replied harshly: "None of your business."  
  
" Well, I never!" She was angry. Her eyes were still curiously examining Draco, though. He had a little Slytherin emblem stitched to the front of his sweatshirt, which hung loosely on him since he was quite lean.  
  
" Stop staring, woman. I'm trying to remember the password." Draco told the painting. She immediately looked away.  
  
" You're not a Gryffindor." She finally said.  
  
" Really? What tipped you off?" Draco murmured sarcastically. " What was that password. . . something with frogs, I know that much. . ." He thought hard, then said: " I know! Frog Mucus."  
  
The fat lady swung open, but reluctantly. " You don't belong in here, Slytherin boy!" She said.  
  
" You're right. I'm doing a favor for Potter." He replied, and then found himself standing in the Gryffindor common room. He realized it was much nicer then Slytherin's common room. It was cleaner, above all.  
  
Now he knew he had to creep by at utmost quietness. He made his way past Ron Weasley, who mumbled about something in his sleep. The Weasley twin's beds lay empty, for they were coming back from their suspension tomorrow. His eyes stopped on Harry's empty bed. Beside it was a bureau.  
  
" Ah, finally." Draco slowly opened the bureau drawer and then saw the white khakis on top. Beside them, indeed, was an odd-looking cloak. He picked it up and then put his hand under it. His hand was gone.  
  
Draco's eyes widened. He took the cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders and then looked down. The only thing left of him was his head, floating over the ground. Draco thought this was the greatest thing since sliced bread, since it could have been material for endless pranks. Wouldn't it be funny if McGonagall saw a hand floating towards her? Or if Neville Longbottom found himself in an encounter with Draco's floating head?  
  
Draco chuckled to himself as he then pulled the hood of the cloak over himself. Now he was completely invisible. He walked across the room, ready to leave, when he realized something: where was Longbottom, anyway?  
  
He turned around but didn't see him anywhere in the room.  
  
Draco then glanced around the room again. There was a chess set waiting beside Weasley's bed, on which there was a half-eaten bag of jellybeans. He took a whole bunch of them and pushed them into his pockets, feeling that this would be perfect pelting material.  
  
Then, he looked around the room again.  
  
He hadn't really gone through anything, but. . . he battled with himself whether he should check anything out. He found his eyes moving to a box on Harry's bureau. He had labeled it: Gifts. Draco wondered what kind of gifts he'd get. Draco himself didn't get much from his friends on his birthday - he didn't tell them when it was. Only Crabbe and Goyle knew, so they'd steal something for him. Last year it had been two candy bars and a book that looked really difficult - they figured Draco would like it.  
  
He had liked it. He never admitted it to anyone, but he read it over and over to himself, usually when he couldn't fall asleep. Draco now couldn't resist lifting the lid of Harry's box and taking a peek inside.  
  
The felt-lined inside of the box felt soft and warm to his fingers. Draco tilted the box to the light and then examined what was inside. There was an envelope, worn and dirty, filled with pictures. He flipped through them, with a bit of a disinterest. All of them were of Hermione. ' He needs a hobby.' He murmured. Who in their right mind wanted a million pictures of Hermione?  
  
Draco then saw a little wooden sculpture of Harry on a broom, looking like the hero everyone saw him as, his hand outstretched to catch some invisible Snitch. Draco felt a twinge of jealousy that he resented. He pushed the little sculpture back inside the box, then found something else. It was a letter, a bit shredded up; and he found it to be simply a little birthday card, nothing more. Then, there was a book on Quidditch, which just barely fit inside the box.  
  
Draco pulled that out completely and opened it. It was one of the kinds of books he'd love to read - it was long, tiny type, and filled with interesting things. His secret - he loved to read.  
  
Draco then pushed the book back in after reading to himself the first page. He was reluctant.  
  
There was nothing else in the box except for some candy and a few golden Galleons on the bottom of it. Draco thought it would be funny to steal the Galleons, but he didn't really feel up to it.  
  
He put the box, covered with its lid like it originally was, back onto the bureau. Draco's eyes scanned Harry's bed to see if there was something amusing lying among the folds of the sheets - a teddy bear or something? There wasn't anything there though that would qualify as something funny. He sighed and decided it was time to head to the hospital room. He turned when he heard a sound.  
  
Ron was mumbling through his sleep: " I'm sorry, Herm . . . sorry . . . forgive me. . ."  
  
Draco shrugged and then left the Gryffindor sleeping quarters and then emerged through the portrait door, the cloak trailing on the floor behind him, invisible to the naked eye. Only Draco could see it from the inside out.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The way to the hospital room was a bit less confusing. Draco managed not to trip over an oddly placed statuette of a griffin, then had to avoid falling since he was about to take a step towards a staircase when it began to move. It would have been a long fall down. . .  
  
He felt his body stiffen, his eyes stopping on the very bottom of the fall - nearly two hundred feet down. He took a slow step backwards, the wall behind him a comforting feeling pressed to his back.  
  
Tugging the cloak closer around him, he made his way around the shifting staircases to one on the far left which had remained in place. His feet pattered as he slowly ran up the stairs, then stopped, waiting, listening.  
  
The hallway was dead silent.  
  
He continued, making his way to the hospital wing. His cloak snagged onto something and he turned, his eyes angry at whatever dared to catch onto it. Some sort of a statue was standing there, bronze and gleaming in the moonlight.  
  
He turned to free the cloak from the statue's hold, only to feel it move aside, showing yet another passageway.  
  
Curiosity was his weakness.  
  
Draco slowly slipped into the cavernous passageway, his eyes checking its surroundings. He made his way to the back of it and then stared at what he saw: a secret room. Inside, odd things lay about. A few magical spell books, and odds and ends. Scissors and cutting-room supplies, with thread and yarn. And in the corner of the tiny little room was a magazine clipping of a girl, which resembled Rebecca Crick.  
  
Draco's eyes widened.  
  
' What is this place?' He thought, peeking around. It looked like someone had tried to set up a sewing room inside. He shrugged after a while. Perhaps one of the students (a girl, most likely), had set up a secret room in which they made dresses for . . . dolls, or something.  
  
Draco backed away from the room, and then emerged from the passageway through the doorway the bronze statue was hiding. It had slid aside quite easily, but he noticed he had pushed it directly at the same time as the big hand of the clock across the hall moved to the twelve, and the little one was on one. It was a common witch and wizard secret, sealing doorways with objects that only opened up on hours, not minutes (i.e. 2:00, 3:00, 4:00, 5:00, etc.). Draco continued his way to the hospital wing.  
  
There wasn't a need to alarm Potter - he'd probably ramble out wild stories of what it could mean. Draco simply decided to keep this newfound room in the stitches of their mystery until it comes into light of being something useful to the mystery.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry didn't suspect to find Draco back for a while. The hospital wing was so silent, that if a pin were to be dropped, the windows would implode from the noise. Harry shifted, his bed springs creaking unnaturally loud. The room echoed the sound, multiplying it, making it sound as if an elephant had just rolled off one of the beds instead of Harry.  
  
He was now sitting on the corner of his bed, his fingers finding his glasses in the darkness, the cold black rims of them making their way into his hands quickly. Harry slowly put them on, then looked around the room again.  
  
The kitten in the poster across the room was struggling to climb up its branch again. Madame Pomfrey sat, dozing, in a chair by the doorway.  
  
Harry suddenly heard footsteps.  
  
His eyes widened, but though he tried, he couldn't see anyone in the darkness of the room. The footsteps neared his bed and then Draco's head appeared, floating over the ground. Harry whispered: "You found the cloak!"  
  
" Yeah. Pretty neat, Potter." He slid the cloak off his shoulders and it fell in a bunch at his ankles, and he then picked it up, handing it over to Harry. " Here, you put it on."  
  
Harry nodded and then put the cloak on, letting his head remain floating above the ground. Then, Harry asked Draco: "Where are we going to go first?"  
  
" The library. I think we have a book with names of students from Beauxbaxton, and if anything, we should look up Rebecca and her records." Draco replied.  
  
" Good idea." Harry then pulled the hood of his robe on, and Draco looked a bit bewildered, but then he heard Harry's voice: "I thought we'd share the cloak."  
  
Draco seemed a bit detesting of it. " I don't. . ."  
  
" It's big enough. Ron, Hermione, and I fit under it." Harry said.  
  
" It's alright. I'd rather be caught walking alone through Hogwarts then with you under a cloak." Draco replied, and then headed out of the room. The silent creak of Harry's footsteps behind him was reassuring, to say the least.  
  
The winding staircases soon brought them down before the library doors. Draco turned and whispered: " You still there, Potter?"  
  
" Yeah."  
  
" Okay." He pushed the door open, then wondered if he should hold it open for Potter. He didn't.  
  
The library smelled of paper and ink, which wasn't surprising. Draco suddenly pulled his hand back, and whispered urgently: "Harry! There's someone here."  
  
" Who?"  
  
Draco saw Harry's face as Harry moved the cloak away from himself. There was an air of puzzlement around both boys as they stared at a moonlit figure hunched over a book at a nearby library table. It was a girl, with long hair that puffed out and then stretched in frizzy strands across her arms.  
  
" It's Hermione!" Harry exclaimed from inside of his robe.  
  
Hermione stirred, turning to look towards where she heard a whisper. Draco pulled backwards behind a bookshelf, while Harry immediately yanked the cloak over his face.  
  
" Potter, you nitwit. Why don't you shout next time?" Draco hissed into where he figured Harry's ear would be.  
  
Harry glared underneath the cloak and then slowly moved over towards Hermione. Draco moved after him on the other side of the bookshelf, where he was out of Hermione's view. Draco's eyes searched the shelves for the student records of Beauxbaxton.  
  
The door of the library rattled.  
  
Hermione jumped up, slamming her book shut, and then headed to hide behind the bookshelf as well. It was most likely Filch doing his nightly round of checking out every Hogwarts corner, nook, and cranny.  
  
Hermione smacked right into Draco's chest as she hid behind the bookshelf. She murmured: "Odd place for a wall. . ." Then she looked up in horror at Draco's face.  
  
She took a step backwards, ready to scream.  
  
Draco put his fingers to his lips and then told her to shush up, but in a bit of a nastier way. Harry saw this all with a sudden amusement.  
  
Filch stepped into the room, the lantern in his hand casting long frightening shadows on the walls. Mrs. Norris rubbed around his legs, letting out a pitiful mewling sound. "What is it, Mrs. Norris?" Filch asked the cat, gently rubbing her ears. " Any students out of bed?"  
  
The cat raised its tail into the air, twitching it slightly, ears erect and listening up for every sound. Hermione held her breath and then she looked back at Draco, who seemed to be quite amused.  
  
Harry edged his way towards Draco and Hermione, hugging the cloak tightly to him. Draco was probably wondering where Harry was, and Hermione was frightened enough with the fact that Draco was there.  
  
" Any kids out here?" Filch cackled, moving himself closer towards the bookshelf that the trio were standing behind.  
  
Draco slowly edged farther away from the light Filch was casting with the lantern. He bumped into the bookshelf on the other side, then watched as Hermione followed him. Harry wanted to laugh at the look Draco gave Hermione.  
  
Filch was nearing the bookshelf, his lantern pushed around the corner of the bookshelf. Draco quickly rounded the area of the bookshelf and behind the next one. Hermione raced after him. Draco moved away from her.  
  
Filch walked up the pathway between the bookshelves, his lantern dancing off a rope wrapped around his wrist. " What is it, Mrs. Norris? Someone is in here?"  
  
The cat yowled and then raced up the path between the bookshelves, then sniffed the area in which Draco, Hermione, and the invisible Harry were standing.  
  
The room hung with an air of suspense. " Hmm." Filch moved towards where Mrs. Norris stood. The light of the lantern danced between the spines of the books and illuminated Hermione on the other side. She gasped and then moved out of the light's reach. Filch heard the gasp and straightened up. "I heard something, Mrs. Norris!"  
  
The cat meowed in reply.  
  
Harry stuck his hand out of the cloak and tugged on Draco's sweatshirt. He turned, then saw Harry's hand motion at a bookshelf across the walkway. The bookshelf was tilting inwards, showing a hidden passage. Harry's hand beckoned towards the inside of the bookshelf.  
  
Draco shook his head silently, his blue eyes speaking for him: Filch will see us!  
  
Harry stuck out his other hand, pointing at Hermione. Harry was thinking to himself: 'Take Hermione! Get into the passage! I'll get the book on Beauxbaxton records.' Harry moved both hands towards the passage way, then pointed at Hermione again.  
  
' No!' Draco mouthed.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. Draco was stubborn. He didn't want to take Hermione with him.  
  
Hermione turned and Harry hid both his hands under the cloak again, his stomach wringing with worry. He didn't want Hermione to find out that he was there - it was best if she only knew Draco was in the library.  
  
Draco finally budged. He turned to Hermione and whispered, just audibly: "Follow me."  
  
She was doubtful. Harry hoped with all his mind that she'd follow Draco, and trust him. Otherwise, Filch would find her and Draco and they'd both be in extreme trouble.  
  
Hermione finally nodded and followed Draco as they both made their way across the walkway. They'd have to sneak past the row of books that Filch was standing at.  
  
Harry busied himself in distracting Filch. Using his cloak to all its capability, Harry sneaked around the bookshelf to the third one from Filch and then dropped a book to the floor. Filch spun around to face the sound.  
  
In the meantime, Draco and Hermione raced past the row Filch was in and then made their way into the passageway behind the bookshelf. Harry slowly moved towards the passage, too, but Filch was already onto something.  
  
" Who is it! Show yourselves and I'll reduce the punishment. . . a bit." Filch shouted.  
  
Harry knew that even a reduced punishment would be severe, so he made sure not to make a sound as he neared the area where the library held the books filled with various records.  
  
Harry's eyes flew across the spines of the books, reading the titles: Top Fifteen Quidditch Record-breakers; Amazing Witch Records - 1995 Version; Hogwarts Students - A Complete Record. Then, there it was - a new and updated book on Beauxbaxton students.  
  
Harry drew his hand out from beneath his robe and then pulled the book towards him. He opened it, just to see if it was the right book. The dates inside were accurate, it would have to show Rebecca's records in it as well, if she went to Beauxbaxton.  
  
Harry then moved towards the secret passageway and opened it slightly. Filch was now exploring the area where Harry had dropped a book.  
  
Mrs. Norris darted across the floor, sniffling the area where Harry had taken the book on Beauxbaxton. Suddenly, the passageway fell open and Harry went inside. Then, he found himself in pitch black.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
" Someone just entered." Hermione's voice echoed through the passageway. Then, Draco's voice said:  
  
" Lumos!" His wand let out a light. Harry could see Draco and Hermione halfway down the passageway. Draco was saying now: "Nobody entered. Don't panic."  
  
" I'm not panicking." Hermione replied, stiffly. "What were you doing in the library, anyway?"  
  
Harry held his breath in anticipation. Draco and Harry hadn't thought of any alibis of what they were up to if they'd be caught. Draco replied quickly though, without any hesitation: "Taking a midnight stroll. What were YOU doing?"  
  
Hermione fell silent.  
  
Harry moved up closer to them, the cloak still wrapped around him, his eyes looking over Hermione. She was just as he remembered her. He wanted to reach out and just hug her, to tell her how sorry he was.  
  
" Well?" Draco prompted.  
  
" I was researching something." Hermione replied.  
  
" What were you researching, may I ask?" Draco asked.  
  
" No you may not." She snapped.  
  
Draco's face darkened with anger. The word 'Mudblood' was already traced on his lips, ready to come out. Harry bent over and picked up a pebble, and then struck Draco in the back of the head with it to remind him that Harry was still there, and that calling Hermione a Mudblood wasn't allowed.  
  
Draco sighed and then said stiffly: " Odd time of the day to do research, don't you think?"  
  
" It suits me." Hermione replied, just as coldly. They spoke purely to pass time as they walked down the long dark corridor.  
  
Draco didn't reply. Suddenly, he laughed. " You thought I was a wall?"  
  
She laughed too. " Yes, well, I bumped nose first into something, and you don't think the first thing that came to your mind is your chest?"  
  
He shook his head. " That's pretty funny though." Suddenly, Draco had an idea. " Say, how come you aren't visiting Potter in the hospital wing?"  
  
Hermione seemed angry. " Is that your business?" She demanded.  
  
" I'm making it my business." He replied sharply.  
  
" I'm angry with him."  
  
" You're angry that he kept his word to Ron?" Draco said, slyly.  
  
Her eyebrows raised. "How do you know about any of this?"  
  
" I have my ways." He was pushing open the bookshelf at the end of the passageway. Moonlight streamed across the hallway that they stepped out into, and Draco removed the Lumos spell from his wand. " You know, Potter can't stop moaning about how sorry he is. I've seen him in the hospital wing not so long ago. What a wimp."  
  
Harry winced at the insult, but knew it was for a good cause. He was surprised Draco was trying to reconcile Hermione and Harry. Harry figured it would be Ron pestering Hermione about ending the fight.  
  
" He's really, honestly sorry?" Hermione stopped walking and faced Draco.  
  
" Would I lie?" Draco replied.  
  
" Yes." She said, then laughed.  
  
He shook his head. " Well, I'm not lying now, then." He turned away from her and said: " Get some sleep, your eyes are red. It looks awful."  
  
" Um . . . thanks." She said, sarcastically, then walked away down towards Gryffindor tower.  
  
Draco walked the opposite way. Harry followed him. Once Hermione's footsteps weren't audible, Harry removed the hood of his cloak and stared at Draco in surprise. " Why did you tell her that?"  
  
" Tell her what? That her eyes were red?" Draco replied.  
  
" No! About how I'm sorry and all." Harry said.  
  
" I wanted to." Draco answered. "Why, you don't want to get back together with her or something?" He looked a bit defensive now.  
  
" No. I do. But. . . it's not like you to . . ." Harry began.  
  
" Well, you might laugh, but I'm beginning to consider you as a friend-in-training." Draco replied. " Not a friend yet. I'm mainly helping you for my own reasons, after all."  
  
" Oh. Okay, a friend-in-training." Harry smiled.  
  
This time, Draco smiled back.  
  
  
  
A/N: Readers I need your help! Does J.K. Rowling ever say what the names of Hermione's parents are? If so what are they? It's crucial that I find out. Well the next chapter might not be up for 2 or 3 days since I'm going away to my aunt's house for New Years and I won't have time to write a chapter up.  
  
P.S. Remember, Harry and Hermione had already made plans to go to her parent's house over Christmas break. I'm planning to have them make-up in the next chapter though it is still under construction. ^_^ 


	19. Even Ice Can Melt

1 A/N: I don't own ANYTHING. Except the plot and a few characters.  
  
2  
  
3 Chapter 19  
  
Even Ice can Melt  
  
Hermione had come to visit Harry, finally. He was in the middle of a bowl of chicken soup the next day after the trip to the library when she suddenly approached his bed. They looked at each other for a while without saying anything, then Hermione let out the word: " Hello."  
  
" Hi." Harry put the bowl aside on the table beside the hospital bed. He stared at her in an uncertainty that surprised him. He didn't expect her to visit him.  
  
" I . . . someone told me that you were really sorry." Hermione began, just as Harry said:  
  
" Look, I'm really, really sorry about . . ."  
  
They both looked at each other for a moment, then Hermione smiled. " I realized it was a bit stupid of me to be mad at you, Harry. I'm glad it didn't last long."  
  
" I know."  
  
" You had every right to keep your secret to Ron, I practically pushed you into making a promise with me. It was only fair that you'd keep his promise before mine." She smiled, her hand holding out to Harry. " So, are we . . . friends again?"  
  
Harry took her hand and pulled her towards him. She staggered with the pressure he had pulled her with, then blushed as she fell into his arms on the bed. He hugged her tightly. "Friends? Just friends?" He whispered in her ear.  
  
She curled her legs under herself, on the bed, so that she was pretty much sitting right under his arm. She shook her head, a strand of dark hair falling over her face.  
  
Hermione then looked down, her eyelashes covering her eyes, and she said: " No. Not just friends."  
  
Harry let go of her and she sat back, hands on her knees, her robes spread out over Harry's legs on the bed. " I saw Draco in the library yesterday. I was poring through books."  
  
" Draco?" Harry pretended to be surprised.  
  
" Yes." She nodded. " He's a strange person, isn't he? He just appeared out of nowhere, and then helped get me out of the library from Filch." Hermione rested her chin on her left knee, her eyes leaking out the puzzlement that filled her. " It's almost as if he wanted to help me."  
  
" Maybe he did." Harry said. " He's working with us now, after all." He laughed as Hermione's mouth fell open in surprise.  
  
" He's WHAT?" She gasped.  
  
" Don't tell me you didn't suspect he might want to help us." Harry said. He added: " Draco has the Beauxbaxton book of students records with him. He was supposed to come see me today, but his father visited the school today. I really wonder why Lucius Malfoy would be doing, visiting Hogwarts in the middle of the year."  
  
" I've always thought he was a bit severe with Draco." Hermione said.  
  
" Yeah." Harry simply said. " He's helping us, though, and that's what matters. I don't know why he is. Perhaps its pity or revenge on Rebecca, or some other things . . ." Harry said. " . . .but he is helping us."  
  
" He did help convince me to go visit you." Hermione told Harry.  
  
" Did he?" Harry put on his best surprised/delighted face, the kind you use when you open a gift on Christmas and you already knew what it was and have to act like you're surprised anyway.  
  
" Yes." She shrugged her shoulders. " I simply don't know what's happening to him. It's like he's changing, you know, as if all the ice melted from his heart."  
  
" Maybe." Harry said.  
  
" Did you get any farther with the mystery, while you were here?" Hermione asked.  
  
" Not really." Harry admitted. " Draco did tell me some new clues. I don't think he'd mind if I told you them."  
  
" What are they?" She cocked her head.  
  
" He wrote those notes to you, for instance."  
  
" WHAT!" Hermione shouted.  
  
" Keep it down, dears, we have a headache patient over here." Madame Pomfrey shouted from across the hospital room. She was sitting at the beside of some third-year, who was wearing the Hufflepuff colors and clutching his head.  
  
" Sorry." Hermione called back, then turned to Harry, her eyes shining with fury. " He wrote them to me? I thought he wanted to help us, not scare the stuffing out of us."  
  
Harry laughed. " Draco didn't write them on purpose."  
  
" Oh, really?" She put her hands on her hips. " How do you accidentally write someone a threat letter?" She was laughing, too, her eyes slowly letting go of that tinge of fury.  
  
Harry shook his head and explained: " No, you see. . . he didn't know they were to you. Rebecca asked him to write a few threat letters for her, saying that she wanted to scare some girl she knew. She set him up, you see."  
  
" Oh." Hermione said, softly.  
  
" He's mad at Rebecca for that, and he's also freaked out by her anyhow with how she attempted to kill Hedwig." Harry said.  
  
" I don't blame him." Hermione replied.  
  
" Well, in any case, Draco isn't on our suspect list in any way. He's helping us, and so we should give him a lot of credit for that." Harry took a spoonful of soup into his mouth, and Hermione waited until he finished eating. Harry finally swallowed, then continued: "Malfoy also said that Rebecca never, ever takes her shoes off."  
  
" And I did hear a rumor that the person that you were chasing had been barefoot." Hermione suddenly said: " Would that be her, though?"  
  
" I don't see that big of a connection, yet."  
  
" I suppose." She sighed.  
  
" This is going to be the hardest case yet, for us, isn't it, Hermione?" Harry asked.  
  
" At least we have Draco helping us out." She said, trying to be optimistic. She succeeded in making Harry smile. Hermione continued: " I'm sure Malfoy is clever enough to help us solve it in time."  
  
She made a face. " I can't believe I'm complimenting him."  
  
" It'll take some getting used to." Harry grinned. " You're not mad at Ron either now, right?"  
  
" Right." She hugged her knees. " I feel so stupid! I shouldn't have been mad at you or Ron! Oh, I should be beginning YOU for forgiveness, Harry."  
  
" It's okay. As long as you're not mad anymore." Harry said.  
  
" I'm not." She grinned.  
  
" Then, good." He leaned back onto the pillows behind his back and then sighed happily. " I'm getting used to being here all day. It's kind of fun, now, with having you, Ron, Ginny, and Draco visiting me all the time. No classes to worry about."  
  
" I have news - lots of scoop - on Snape and Thea." Hermione giggled.  
  
" Tell me." Harry laughed. It was finally something amusing and odd that they had discovered - Snape and Thea as a couple. The two were complete opposites, after all! Snape was tall, dark, dirty, and frightening, while Thea was small, frail, and beautiful; with robes either white or pink or some other cheery color, and with long and clean blonde hair.  
  
" Professor Sprout from Herbology told me that Snape took Thea out to Hogsmeade yesterday. And this is really something - he bought her a beautiful necklace, it's absolutely gorgeous, Harry!" She grinned. " Not as nice as the rings you bought me, though."  
  
Harry grinned.  
  
Hermione continued: " I saw her necklace in Defense Against the Dark Arts yesterday. Oh, would you believe it? It has the teardrops of a phoenix frozen into the stone! It's marvelous." Hermione then added: " We finished the unit on defending oneself against possessed dragons."  
  
" Really?" Harry looked upset. " I wanted to find out more things. It was so cool, the thing with the light. . ."  
  
" Thea showed us how to magnify that light on the wand - she made the entire room burst into flames."  
  
" What?" Harry gaped at her.  
  
" Yes!" She laughed. " Oh, it was glorious! The whole entire room was in flames, and nobody got burned, since it would only damage those with the darkness inside them. For instance, it would probably damage someone like You-Know-Who." She shuddered at the name.  
  
Harry asked her: " Any new observations of Rebecca?"  
  
" She had a big meeting with the Hufflepuff team, being the captain and all. They are plotting a dangerous cheating game on Gryffindor - the one on the day after Thanksgiving."  
  
" That's in less than two weeks." Harry groaned. " I won't be out by then!"  
  
" Exactly." She's taking advantage of it." Hermione said. "Just like her, to do something like that!"  
  
" I know." Harry shuddered. " Sometimes I just can't stand her." Harry suddenly asked: " Hermione?"  
  
" What is it?"  
  
" Do you think you could ask Draco to come see me tomorrow or something? I need to go through that book on Beauxbaxton records with him."  
  
" Sure." She nodded. " If he can."  
  
" Oh, and here's something else." Harry said. " What happened to Neville? He never visited us."  
  
" You mean you don't know?" She looked surprised.  
  
" No." Harry shook his head.  
  
Hermione stood up, her eyes widening. " I thought everyone knew. He's away for the next few weeks - his grandmother died. Everyone's saying that he might have to go to live in France with his other closest relatives." She sighed. " I feel so horrible for him - that would mean he can't go to Hogwarts anymore."  
  
" No! So you mean . . . he's not coming back?"  
  
" Probably not." She saw Harry's horrified, worried eyes and she said: " Oh, please, Harry, I'm sorry, but don't get too sad. I can invite him over to my house, maybe, when we're away for Christmas break."  
  
" I forgot about that." Harry admitted.  
  
" I can't wait, you know." She grinned. " I've always wanted to spend a holiday away from Hogwarts with you somewhere." Her cheeks reddened.  
  
" Really?" He was flattered. " I always thought it would be awesome to spend the holiday away with you, too!"  
  
" I can't believe Neville's grandmother - - just dead - - wow." Harry's eyes widened. " Things sure change, and fast."  
  
" I know." She let out a slow breath. " I suppose these holidays aren't going to be the happiest for some people." Suddenly, she said: " Do you know what Draco's doing over the holidays?"  
  
" No." Harry shook his head.  
  
" Pity. Maybe we can ask him to . . . nah." She shook her head.  
  
" What?"  
  
" Nothing. Don't worry about it. I had one of those crazy ideas again." Hermione smiled at him. " Just forget it, okay?"  
  
" Okay." Harry then watched as she readied herself to leave.  
  
" I should go - Professor McGonagall isn't too gracious about having me visit you too long - but she did say that it would be good if I visit you everyday while you're in here." Hermione pushed her hands into her pockets. " Anything else you want to say before I go?"  
  
" Yeah." He smiled.  
  
" What is it?" She asked.  
  
Harry motioned with his finger to come closer. She looked at him, puzzled, then came closer. He leaned forwards to whisper in her ear. She listened intently, her ear ready to hear something, but felt two warm lips instead. He kissed her eyelid, missing her mouth by a mile, then laughed and found her lips. She smiled and told him:  
  
" Harry, I miss you a lot. It's not the same with you locked up in here."  
  
" And it's no fun without you." He told her. Then, he watched her go, reluctantly, but he realized it was for his best - or was it? The Ministry had him locked up like a bird in a cage, and he had no freedom to leave. What if they don't release him in time for winter holidays? It was quite possible.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Draco and Harry met after three weeks, since both Draco and Harry had busy schedules. Draco's classes demanded all his attention while Harry kept being taken to the Ministry to sort things out, to answer questions, and to in general be in people's way.  
  
Harry was still inside the hospital room, having absolutely no freedom at all, waiting until his release would come but it never did. The Ministry didn't allow him to play Quidditch. His muscles were probably deteriorating, slowly melting into layers of fat, and pretty soon he'd be about as skilled with a broom as Neville Longbottom would.  
  
Harry had missed the match with Hufflepuff against Gryffindor, and now his team was knocked back a few rounds, making the Quidditch Cup slowly drift away from the team's reach once again. Rebecca Crick had supposedly been so overjoyed she'd cried, then shouted: " That's for you, Potter!"  
  
People had begun to talk, saying that Rebecca was only playing for Hufflepuff to ruin Harry Potter's career as the captain. She wanted to make his fifth year, supposedly, hellish. At the same time, everyone was dead afraid of the strange girl with the thick accent.  
  
It was the tenth day of December and Draco and Harry had finally met to discuss things. They went through the book of Beauxbaxton records with feverish intensity, going through dozens of names. Finally, they passed the C's and were going into the D's when Draco exclaimed: "It's not here!"  
  
" What do you mean?" Harry pulled the book from Draco's fingers and then stared at the C's by himself. " It has to be. She went there, didn't she?"  
  
" So she said."  
  
" So she. . . ah." Harry's finger stopped on a name. " There's Rebecca, right there."  
  
" Let me see." Draco leaned forwards, his light hair falling over his forehead. He had to brush it away, and he then took the book out of Harry's hands again. " No, this isn't her, look at the picture."  
  
They looked at it.  
  
It was a girl, very short, with tiny grayish-green eyes that seemed pressed into her face and curly black hair sheared close to her head like a boy's. Her cheeks were covered with freckles and her lips were painted a dark brown color. Her picture moved and she grinned wider, revealing a mouth of crooked teeth.  
  
" My God." Draco leaned back, his eyes moving away from the picture.  
  
Harry then read: " Listen to her information: Rebecca Crick. Born in the United States on Friday the thirteenth of October. She's about thirteen now, and she goes to Beauxbaxton since her family moved to France. She was supposed to go to Hogwarts." Harry stopped reading. " This isn't the right Rebecca Crick."  
  
" There's no other." Draco murmured.  
  
" Unless the Rebecca we know is . . ."  
  
" Fake." Draco slammed the book shut. " I knew it. She's FAKE."  
  
" No kidding."  
  
" You know what this means, Potter? She's someone in disguise. Someone that must be very against you." Draco smiled to himself. " And against Mudblood, too."  
  
" Hey! What did I say about that name. . ."  
  
" Shut up." Draco pushed the book back into Harry's hands. "Listen. You've already told me all the clues you've found, right?"  
  
" Right."  
  
" Well, Hagrid's stolen dragon, for instance. Being a young dragon, it's skin could be used to transform a person into someone else." Draco began.  
  
" Yeah . . .?"  
  
" Rebecca never takes off her shoes, right?"  
  
" Right."  
  
" And then you saw someone without shoes spying on you, ready to ATTACK you, and when you ran after them they used a Dark Curse." Draco was satisfied with himself. " And didn't Rebecca practice Dark Curses?"  
  
" I see what you're getting at. So Rebecca could be a Death Eater, or something, in disguise? Using her shoes of dragon hide to become her girl- self?" Harry frowned. " But she had the shoes even before Hagrid's dragon was stolen."  
  
" Shoes wear out. That giant oaf found that golden button outside, didn't he? It could have been from Rebecca's shoes. She needed new ones, to remain in her disguise." Draco stood up, pacing the room. " She had to take them off though, in order to use her real powers - the ones belonging to her other identity, the one she's hiding."  
  
" And that's when she was spying on me, waiting to attack?" Harry asked.  
  
" Yeah."  
  
" So . . . I'm beginning to get it. And she stole Rebecca Crick's identity from Beauxbaxton." Harry suddenly shot out of the hospital bed as well. "The Ministry has to release me! We need to find Rebecca and. . . and do something."  
  
" We can't just confront her. Some things aren't fitting together yet." Draco said. " Here, how about we forget that thing, where I only do research when you are with me?"  
  
" Are you serious?"  
  
" Yes." Draco sat down at the foot of Harry's bed. " I think I'll try and put things together. I'll be back in a month - in January - my dad's taking me out of Hogwarts for a while." Draco looked sad.  
  
" Why's would your dad take you out of Hogwarts for a whole month!" Harry exclaimed.  
  
" I don't know." He replied, his eyes moving from Harry's.  
  
" Yeah you do." Harry said. " You have to know. I mean. . ."  
  
" Okay, fine!" Draco looked tired of hiding things. His eyes seemed to reflect the pain and agony of years of torturing, mind-numbing cruelty. Harry watched him speak with interest: " My dad. . . well, he feels I'm a bit of a weak link in the Malfoy family. Okay? I don't know why. He finds it amusing to have me around to kick and lock up in the basement of our mansion and all sorts of things."  
  
" That's terrible." Harry whispered.  
  
" Yeah, it's terrible. And painful, too." Draco grumbled. Harry just now noticed the bruise on Draco's collarbone, which he had never paid attention to before. Draco looked down, seeing the bruise, and whispered: " My dad visited Hogwarts a few days ago to inform Dumbledore that he's taking me out of school soon. Probably next week or so, unless something comes up." This explained why and when the bruise had appeared.  
  
Harry was at loss of words.  
  
Draco's eyes exploded with pain and he said:  
  
"Are you happy now? My dad wants to take me to Greenland for a month, to my grandfather's estate. He. . ." Draco shivered. "They both think I need - - extra discipline." He spat the words as if he were saying a horrible insult.  
  
" I'm so sorry." Harry said, softly, not knowing what else to do.  
  
" Don't be." Draco said, vaguely making Harry recall the time he and his friends had made fun of him on the Hogwarts steps after a trip to Hogsmeade.  
  
" So I guess the mystery lies still until you come back?" Harry asked, a bit stunned to think of any other question.  
  
" Not really. I'm sure Mud - - Hermione - - will help you out in bits. But don't do anything drastic until I come back, okay?" Draco seemed really into the case now. Harry wouldn't have done anything even if Draco hadn't told him.  
  
" Okay." Harry smiled. " I hope Greenland is. . . fun."  
  
" I wish it was January." Draco replied, his eyes shimmering with tears. Then, he stood, grasping at the book. " I . . . I'll go return this to the library. You can - - you. . ." His voice cracked, and Draco quickly walked from the hospital room, the book clutched tightly in his hands.  
  
" Wait!" Harry suddenly called out.  
  
" What?" Draco turned, his teeth biting his lower lip, pulling back anything that would make him seem any weaker then he felt right now in his heart.  
  
" Hermione invited me to her house over the winter break. Maybe you can come with us, to her home. It would be some sort of plans, and I think your dad is honorable enough to pull out of something like that."  
  
" My father wouldn't allow it. Spending the vacation with . . . Muggles . . ." Draco stopped speaking, his head turning away. "Thanks for the offer, anyhow. But nothing can save my skin right now."  
  
" I'm sorry." Harry said, lamely, to the back of the figure moving out of the room: strong, silent, unbroken. Harry thought, vaguely:  
  
' Was this why Draco turned his heart to stone and ice before? To keep himself from breaking apart mentally?'  
  
A sudden concern and understanding blossomed inside Harry for Draco. Now, more then ever, Harry realized that he was wrong about Draco Malfoy. He was horribly, horribly wrong and so was nearly everyone in Hogwarts.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Hermione came to see Harry about three days later, just as it began to snow heavily outside, the first snow that year. It had come rather late, for England's conditions, but Harry didn't really mind, as long as Christmas was white and beautiful then it was all okay.  
  
The trees outside were no longer naked. Their branches were wrapped in beautiful white fur coats, their bark dark and beautiful next to the white of the snow. Rabbit tracks crossed the Quidditch field outside and Dumbledore officially declared a day off for the students, due to the fresh and exciting snowfall being such a distraction to students, and so Harry got a lot of visitors that day. Harry was lying on the bed, bored, flipping through a magazine on Quidditch that Ron brought in. The magazine wasn't very interesting, and Ron had circled or highlighted things with his quill (one page looked at if Ron dipped it into yellow ink). It was about some woman on the professional Quidditch team from Canada, and the picture of her was a bit mesmerizing to Harry.  
  
Hermione cleared her throat behind him.  
  
Harry turned his head, not knowing who to expect behind him, then saw Hermione and exclaimed: " Oh! Hi, Hermione."  
  
" I thought I'd stop by and have a chat." She sat down opposite him on the bed. " I can't believe the Ministry is still keeping you in here."  
  
" Just like Charlie . . ." Harry said. " Any news of him, by the way?"  
  
" Ron said that the Ministry is removing the mark from him tomorrow. They decided that endangering his life wouldn't be worth it. But they are taking a tissue sample to identify the wand the mark came from, anyhow." Hermione said.  
  
" Then they've finally took care of Charlie. What about me?" Harry exclaimed. " They keep asking me the same questions, and they're afraid I'll get attacked again. They act like I'm a poor little egg, and if they take their eyes off me I'll crack in half and be destroyed."  
  
" Poor Harry." She gave Harry a sympathetic smile. " I'm sure you'll get out of this rut soon."  
  
" What if I don't, and you told me I could go to your home over Christmas break?" Harry asked.  
  
" They can't keep you away from me!" Hermione laughed.  
  
Harry shrugged. " The Ministry isn't going to just release the case so that I could have the BEST winter break of my life."  
  
" The best?" She smiled.  
  
" Sure." Harry told her.  
  
" I'm . . . well, you know what, Harry? I think I'm feeling a bit guilty. Don't you think we should have asked Ron to come with us, and Ginny, and the others? I mean, it seems sort of selfish now." Hermione said.  
  
Harry hadn't thought of that. " I don't think Ron would mind. He's pretty okay with it, from what I know. I've talked to him about it already, after all."  
  
" Oh." She suddenly said: " Did you and Draco figure out anything new about the case?"  
  
" Yes!" Harry exclaimed. " Listen to this . . . we have found out that the Rebecca Crick we know never went to Beauxbaxton. The Rebecca we know quite possibly had killed Hagrid's baby dragon and then used its skin to morph herself into the identity she has now."  
  
" Wow! It makes sense. . ."  
  
" And here's more!" Harry said. " Draco, see, you were right. He is clever. He was able to also figure some other things out. For instance, he told me that he thinks Rebecca might not even be a girl. She could be a Death Eater, here to get me. Rebecca's shoes are the ones made of the dragon hide, and that is why she never removes them. She is practicing Dark Spells to kill me, and then she was stalking outside, waiting for me. I caught her, though, and she tried a spell but it backfired. She didn't have her shoes on, since perhaps her true form is more powerful."  
  
" Goodness." Hermione cried out. " We need to turn her in to the Ministry for investigation right now!"  
  
" I promised Draco we'd wait until he's back from Greenland. He left yesterday, remember?" Harry felt a painful sickening feeling in his stomach at the thought. Poor Draco!  
  
" Then we have to wait for him." She sighed. " I guess the Ministry would release you quicker, though, if they don't know what we are suspecting of Rebecca."  
  
" That's what I think, too." Harry said.  
  
" Well, whatever will happen, we'll rise up to meet it, won't we Harry?" Hermione spoke without knowing what will happen in the future . . . if she only knew . . .  
  
Author's Note: Yeah spooky way to end a chapter but hey! I assure you Harry won't die in this story since then what about books 6 and 7? Will they be about his corpse or something? ::snickers:: um yeah I should really work on my funny jokes. . . Next chapter: Harry goes to Hermione's home for the holidays! Fluffy goodness for everyone! Oy I can't believe it! 285 pages on Microsoft Word. I'm on a roll, baby. Not bad for someone who can barely speak English. By the way! Winter break is 2 weeks, right? 


	20. Twists of Fate

1 A/N: I don't own nothing.  
  
Sincere apologies to how this story was all messed up on Jan. 1, 2002. Man, I feel dumb, but see, my computer messed up. It kept freezing when I was uploading and then the spell check changed all my words up - when I first posted ch.19, Hermione was changed to Herman which is not right. I'm sorry for the confusion, and yeah I hope everything's alright now!  
  
A/N, a bit of a PS: There will probably be 2 more chapters after this. This fiction is, though not as long as the real books (off by about 100 pages, from my planning), not going to be stretched too long. I already finished the last chapter and now have to work up to it, so that's all I'm doing now. After that, I will only write short, non-continuing fics unless something happens that will force me to writing novels again - like getting 500 reviews or something. Then I'd know that this is really something. ^_^  
  
2  
  
3 Chapter 20  
  
Twists of Fate  
  
The Ministry had finally released Harry to go, since they had been stuck in a rut with determining who it had been that attacked Harry, and Harry wasn't going to lead them on, since he wanted to go with Hermione to her home for winter vacation. So, finally, the day had come for Harry to leave for the Granger's Muggle home. He had been packing for a good two hours inside the Gryffindor tower, his eyes checking his room over and over again to see if he missed anything important.  
  
Ron walked up to him just then, his eyes questioning: "So, Harry . . ." Ron began, his lower lip trembling a bit. " A week away with Hermione, alone, eh?"  
  
" Yeah."  
  
" That's pretty neat." Ron replied, his eyes moving away from Harry's now. " I guess. . . alone, eh?"  
  
Harry looked up at him, from the suitcase packed with his belongings, and said, with a bit of an amusement in his voice: "Well, not completely alone, Ron. Her parents will be there."  
  
" Oh." Ron shuffled his feet. " But alone from anyone else?"  
  
" She can't bring in a lot of friends, you know that." Harry exclaimed. " You didn't invite her when you invited me to your home over the summer, remember?"  
  
Ron's ears reddened. " I guess."  
  
" Don't be jealous, Ron, really, I'm still your best friend. I guess things will change but we'll always be friends forever." He added, softly, after a while: "Always."  
  
" I'm not jealous!" Ron exclaimed.  
  
" I think you might be." Harry slowly closed the suitcase, then opened it upon discovery that he forgot to pack his socks. " Ron, listen to me. I've told you everything that I could, and I've shared with you every new piece of information I got. I couldn't possibly be hiding anything from you. You know that."  
  
" Well . . ."  
  
" You shouldn't doubt me." Harry shoved the ten pairs of socks he'd prepared deep into the suitcase, then grumbled at how taut and stretched the canvas suitcase had become.  
  
" I'm not, Harry. I guess I should have told you, but . . ." Ron suddenly hesitated. "Never mind. Have fun with Hermione, alright?" Ron slowly moved away from Harry.  
  
" I will. Thanks." Harry pulled the suitcase up from the bed, then slowly slid it down to the floor with a thump. The bed springs creaked and slowly raised from the weight that had been removed from them.  
  
Harry turned back to Ron, his hands pulling a parcel from his pocket. " Ron?" Harry said, gently.  
  
The red-haired boy looked up, his hands holding tightly to a magazine, the front of the page moving, revealing an image of a man zooming on a broomstick, hand stretched out, catching a Snitch flawlessly. Harry suddenly recognized the face: Viktor Krum.  
  
Ron stared at the parcel in Harry's hand. "What's that, Harry?"  
  
" Since I won't be here on Christmas, I thought I'd give you your gift earlier." Harry explained, his hand reaching out, the little red packet balanced tenderly on his hand.  
  
" Oh, wow!" Ron jumped up, the magazine falling to the floor, a few loose pages tumbling out. Ron grasped at the parcel and he then brought it up towards his face, against the light, saying: "What is it? Can I open it now?" Ron looked even happier when Harry nodded. " I can open it, really?"  
  
Harry laughed. " You can open it."  
  
Ron, like a child again, slowly ripped open the packet, and found inside a little box. His eyebrows furrowed. "What's this?" He whispered, slowly lifting the top lid of the cardboard box. Just as he did, the room filled with images on all walls - dancing pictures of Quidditch players. Little people on brooms zoomed around on the walls, like a slide projection, but much more interesting. Ron closed the box and all the images disappeared. Ron exclaimed: " Wicked! Where did you find this thing?"  
  
" I saw an ad for it in one of your Quidditch magazines. I thought you'd like it - it's called a Pictobox. It supposedly 'brings a room to life with pictures of Quidditch', quote the ad." Harry smiled. "Do you like it?"  
  
" I love it!" Ron laughed. " It's perfect." He opened the box again and the walls erupted with colorful pictures again. Ron's eyes reflected the colors dancing on the walls. " Wow."  
  
" I know." Harry smiled and then added: " I thought you'd like it."  
  
" For once, you had a right thought." Ron joked, then suddenly said: " I had a gift for you too. Hold on." Ron suddenly placed the Pictobox on his bed and then raced out of the bedroom quarters and into a side room.  
  
" It's okay, Ron. You can give the gift once I come back." Harry shouted out.  
  
" No." Ron cried. " I have to find it."  
  
Harry glanced at the clock in the room. It was about two hours to seven, and seven was when Hermione's parents were to arrive at the train station. Hogwarts had a train driving students to Platform 9 and ¾ in less then two hours now, especially for the winter holidays; and it was being used feverishly by the students. The new train schedules made it a lot easier to fit everyone into the train, and for the students to be able to easily move about outside of school.  
  
" Ron, I'm supposed to catch the train, I can't . . ."  
  
" Okay, got it!" Ron walked in just then with a giant box under his arm. " I didn't wrap it, since I couldn't find enough gift wrap, but. . ."  
  
" It's okay." Harry took the gift hurriedly from Ron's hands and then sat down on the floor to open it. Ron watched with bated breath, hoping that Harry would exclaim in joy at whatever the gift was to be.  
  
Harry gently opened the box and then felt something soft and warm inside. He pulled it upwards and saw it was an odd-shaped sweater, lumpy and moth-eaten. Harry grimaced. " It's . . . lovely, Ron."  
  
Ron laughed. " No, no, put it on, Harry."  
  
" Er. . ." Harry wondered if Ron would force him to wear the awful creation. Harry had dressed spiffily so that Hermione's parents wouldn't think he was some sort of slob or a messy bum, and now this!  
  
Harry pulled the sweater on, and then looked down at it. It slowly took the shape of his body, and then grew a lot more handsome - woven and intricate, with the silkiest yarns used. The pattern changed - instead of lumpy and bumpy zigzags, it was now solid and then in little double loops. Harry said: "Oh! It turned nice! Not that it wasn't nice before, but you know what I mean." Harry added the last part in a hurry, so as not to insult the gift he had received. It was, after all, rather interesting already.  
  
" Harry, it isn't the sweater itself!" Ron laughed.  
  
" What do you mean?" Harry asked.  
  
Ron suddenly swung his fist and hit Harry squarely in the stomach. Harry would have normally been thrown off his feet and then would have pulverized Ron, but to his shock, Ron's fist didn't even tickle him. Actually, Harry didn't even sway on his feet a bit. Ron continued punching Harry, much to Ron's delight.  
  
" Uh, Ron, what's going on?" Harry finally asked.  
  
" Can't you see?" Ron questioned.  
  
" See what?" Harry stared down at the sweater again.  
  
" When you have it on, you can't get hurt. Much." Ron added 'Much' as a bit of an after thought. " The sweater, when taken off, looks hideous, doesn't it?"  
  
Harry nodded, slowly.  
  
" Well, you see, that's not to attract people to it. I bought this thing at that weird store in Hogsmeade, the one where the old guy sells all those strange things." Ron said. " I thought you might need it, just in case."  
  
" Wow! Thanks, Ron!" Harry exclaimed. " This must have been so expensive."  
  
" It's alright. I've done jobs for people all summer, and I pretty much earned most of the money I bought it with. The rest I borrowed off of Fred and George." Ron said, then added: " So, you like it?"  
  
" It's amazing!" Harry exclaimed. " Hit me again."  
  
Ron obliged.  
  
Harry didn't feel nary a trickle once again. " Wicked." Harry said, borrowing Ron's word. " Absolutely, positively wicked."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Hermione and Harry sat down on the red leathery seats inside the Hogwarts holiday train - it was decorated for Christmas accordingly - and then they both chatted excitedly.  
  
" Oh. I can't wait until you meet my parents!" Hermione was saying to Harry.  
  
" Neither can I." Harry admitted.  
  
" Whatever you do, though, don't eat a lot of sweets around them. They don't respect people who eat a lot of sweets - they're both dentists." Hermione reminded Harry.  
  
" I know."  
  
" I think that we won't have a minute of boredom. I'll show you everything - my old Muggle friends, everything." She grinned. "They can't know about Hogwarts, though - they would think we're crazy."  
  
" Muggles." Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
" We both go to a foreign school for gifted children, if they ask - remember that." Hermione warned him.  
  
" I will."  
  
" I'll introduce you as my boyfriend." She squeezed his hand. "They will all be so jealous, that I have such a good-looking and smart guy. . ."  
  
Harry laughed. " Let them be jealous; I am the real lucky one."  
  
This made Hermione laugh loudly. She opened her own baggage, a little handbag filled with few things since she had plenty of clothes back at home, and then said: " I have to show you something, Harry."  
  
Harry leaned forwards, his eyes scanning Hermione's bag with a bit of an interest. What could she possibly want to show him? Hermione slowly pulled with her fingers at a little plastic container and then said: " Harry, I found a clue, and it's not big but it might be important."  
  
" What clue?" Harry asked.  
  
" Here." She opened the plastic container. Harry got sight of a small needle inside it and some leather.  
  
" Oh!" He looked at it with interest.  
  
" This leather was something I found in Rebecca Crick's coat pocket." She said.  
  
" You were pick-pocketing then?" Harry kidded.  
  
" Harry!" She laughed, then lowered her eyes: " Yes." She quickly added: " For a good cause, though! It really was!"  
  
" Well, then, what sort of leather is it?" Harry wanted to know.  
  
" It's a young English Whitescale."  
  
" No. . . Hagrid's?" Harry whispered.  
  
She nodded.  
  
" He'll be heartbroken." Harry leaned back on the red seat, his black hair falling into his eyes, despite his glasses. "No! That's so unfairly cruel! How could anyone kill something so young and innocent?"  
  
" Rebecca Crick - or whoever it is - would." Hermione said.  
  
" That's inhuman. Plain awful, Herm." Harry murmured. "I can't believe this. So the dragon really is dead. Draco was right."  
  
" The point is, Harry, the moment we get back we need to confront her. To find out who she is." Hermione said. "Draco will be back in two weeks, right?"  
  
" He should be."  
  
" Good." She replied. " We'll need his help, we'll need ALL the help we can get against Rebecca Crick. I have a few books on Dark Spells that I . . . um . . . took from the school library. I thought we'd go through them at my home."  
  
" You're really stealing an awful lot, aren't you?" Harry said, semi- seriously, as he brought her closer to him with his hand. He had wrapped his arm around her shoulder, his fingers gently running through the strands of hair resting on her shoulders and down her back. Her head rested on his shoulder as she replied to his question:  
  
" I did what I had to do."  
  
" Of course."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The Grangers stood, a bit awkwardly, in front of the train station. Harry and Hermione finally emerged, and the two parents raced to Hermione right away.  
  
" Oh! Honey!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed, showering Hermione with kisses. " It's so empty in our house without you!"  
  
Mr. Granger, meanwhile, took a good look at Harry, and with smiling, cheerful eyes, he exclaimed: "Well! I assume you're Harry Potter. We've met before, haven't we?"  
  
" Yes." Harry nodded. " Nice to meet you again, though, sir." Harry held his hand out to Mr. Granger and the two shook hands.  
  
Mrs. Granger then turned to Harry, with Mr. Granger going to Hermione ('exchange of positions', thought Harry with a smile). Mrs. Granger's smile was absolutely brilliant - white pearly teeth, all perfectly aligned on pink gums. Harry grinned back, a bit uncertainly, as Mrs. Granger pulled him close in a hug. " Oh, Harry, we've heard a lot about you from Hermione."  
  
" Really?" Harry could only squeak out as he pulled out of the woman's death-lock. She grinned at her husband, then said:  
  
" I suppose Harry wouldn't mind if we traveled home in our, uh, 'Muggle' car?"  
  
Mr. Granger laughed and shook his head, saying: " No, no he wouldn't, right, Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry had finished dinner with the Grangers and then he and Hermione retired to their living room, where she was watching some sort of movie. Harry wasn't too interested in it, it was an animated picture and every few minutes the entire animated cast burst into song spontanously, which was slightly annoying him. So, he finally struck up a conversation with Hermione again:  
  
" I've been thinking on the train ride, and I think I know who Rebecca Crick is."  
  
" Who?" She turned to Harry.  
  
" A follower of Voldemort." Harry said the name, and watched Hermione shudder a bit.  
  
" I think so too, Harry, that's nothing new." She told him.  
  
" I've also put the clues together. Draco told me something, before he left, something I didn't mention before." Harry said.  
  
Hermione leaned closer. "What?"  
  
" He discovered an old sewing room inside Hogwarts, hidden behind a charmed statue." Harry began. " I think Rebecca made the shoes in there, and then stared at a picture on the wall of a girl that looked like her - or, is it, the girl SHE looked LIKE?" Harry was a bit puzzled.  
  
" Just never mind and keep going." Hermione told him.  
  
" Right." He nodded sagely. " She took form of the girl on the wall. When she is in Rebecca's body, she no longer has the powers her old body held. That is why she was practicing Dark Curses. She needed to get to know them with her new self."  
  
" Oh!"  
  
" She was the one who attacked Charlie, in her other form. I know that because of Charlie's description. The person in the robes, with glowing eyes - that's who I ran into outside." Harry could feel a coldness spreading over him. " I don't know how Rebecca could track me, though. I need to find out, because she somehow must have kept track of me to know which school I'm in, to know where my friends live (I visited them, after all), to know who my friends are." Harry released a shuddering breath.  
  
" Whatever happens, you need to confront her. Find out who she is." Hermione said.  
  
" I know."  
  
" I have gone ahead and asked Dumbledore for special permission for me to teach you Dark Curses." Hermione said, admitting to what she had done. " I know you are probably scared of doing them, but if you want to confront Rebecca, you must be prepared."  
  
" I know."  
  
" This holiday won't be fun, Harry, it will be hellish. I will be teaching you everything I can possibly teach you, and you will be able to face Rebecca and if she pulls anything funny, you can defend yourself." Hermione motioned at three books on the table. "The most powerful dark spells await, Harry, and you only tell me to, and I will teach them to you."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry's first lesson with the Dark Spells was a simple spell, but one Hermione had taught herself quickly - fainting spells. She explained to Harry:  
  
" One spell will knock the other person out, and they won't wake up for a long time. Useful for people like Rebecca, in her weak form."  
  
" So who do I practice it on?" Harry asked her, his eyes fixing on the wand in his hands, burning warm already to his touch, since the wand sensed that it would be doing something powerful.  
  
" See over there? I charmed by teddy bear so it's 'alive', a similar charm like they put on Chocolate Frogs." Hermione said, pointing to her bed. On it, a little brown bear was hopping around, aimlessly, bopping into the white-painted wall, blind because his eyes were only black buttons after all.  
  
" How does the spell go again?" Harry asked.  
  
" We went over this a million times!" She cried out, exasperated, her brown hair matted and sticking to her forehead.  
  
" I'm sorry." Harry said, smiling sweetly, then held his wand up in dark charm stance, which was with the wand pointed and shoulder-level, with the eyes held tight to the target, and with a poised elegance to oneself (this was how Hermione taught him, after all). Harry's wand twitched, the dark spell slowly emerging from Harry's mouth: " Stunniti Exasprus."  
  
A dark purple jagged spear of sparks shot from the tip of the wand and then burst through the teddy bear. It fell to the bed with a sickening thump, and Harry ran up to see what had happened. It's teddy bear body was untouched, but it was knocked unconscious.  
  
" I'll remove the Life Charm from the teddy bear now, just in case. . ." Hermione said, tapping the top of the bear's head with her wand and saying the spell: " Nix Livius".  
  
" Windagrdium Leviosa!" She then called out and brought another teddy bear to the bed by floating it over. Hermione then put a Life Charm on this new bear. " Try it again on this one, but this time do the spell precisely when the bear is standing over the pillow."  
  
" Why?"  
  
" Because then you'll have practice in casting spells only at certain moments. It's an important ability." Hermione told him.  
  
So Harry stood in his awkward pose, waiting for the bear to make its way over her white down pillow. Finally, she told him: "Now, Harry!"  
  
" Stunniti Exasprus!"  
  
The purple spear appeared again, winding through the teddy bear. It fell, lifeless, to the bedspread.  
  
" You did it, Harry!" Hermione cried out, throwing her arms around his neck. " Now we can move on to the next curse. . ." She opened the book, then exclaimed: " Ah! My favorite one in here!"  
  
" You have a favorite?" Harry asked, stunned.  
  
" Yes." She replied, her eyes closing halfway in a pout-like smile. " It happens to be the Blinding Curse."  
  
" It makes someone blind?" Harry cried out.  
  
" No." She smiled happily and then explained: " It will simply blind someone for a short while, a few minutes or so, which will throw an enemy off-guard while you make a mad dash for your life or something." Hermione tapped Harry's broom with her nail. "Very clever spell, Harry. Hard to use, and clever as a fox."  
  
" The bears are blind anyway. What do I cast it on?" Harry asked.  
  
" Me." Hermione replied.  
  
" Are you nuts? You?" Harry said. " What if I do permanent damage to you?"  
  
" Like what?" Hermione wanted to know.  
  
" It could malfunction. I could blind you for life." Harry whispered.  
  
She shook her head. " Impossible. Only Neville Longbottom is that careless." She then added: "That reminds me! He and you and me are all going out to the zoo tomorrow, for some fun. He's coming to England again from France and his relatives, in order to settle some court papers or something." Hermione then shook her head and added: "Poor guy, he can barely remember his birth date. How will he fill out those forms?"  
  
Harry read the page in the book on the Blinding Curse. " This looks difficult, Herm." He finally said.  
  
" Difficult, shmifficult." She teased, then told him with a bit of a serious tone: " You'll master it the first time. Now, try it slowly. Say the curse with feeling. Try to imagine me going blind for a few minutes." She laughed.  
  
" Herm, I can't." Harry put his wand down to his side. "That's something I can't do. It would be like killing you or something."  
  
" Harry, do it!"  
  
" Fine." Harry lifted his wand, and said, with as much feeling as one can put into a spell: " Iris Diaphragmus Shuttus!"  
  
Hermione's pupils and Irises suddenly turned into two thin slits, like the sides of coins, or cat eyes when exposed to severe light. She stumbled, and then exclaimed: "You did it, Harry! I can't see a thing!"  
  
" You look awful." Harry whispered, kneeling down beside her on the floor. He stared into her blank, thin slivers of eyes and then said: " That was the hardest spell I've ever had to cast, Herm."  
  
" You never know." She said gently, her eyes slowly closing as she rested her forehead on his. " It's so hard to be blind. I've tried this on myself, before, when I practiced it."  
  
" That's crazy, Herm." Harry told her.  
  
" Not if I want to be successful." She replied. Her eyes suddenly burst from the little slivers and she stood up, blinking. "Ah! Back to normal. See, Harry? Nothing to fear."  
  
Harry shuddered. " I'm still freaked out, no offense." He murmured.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The next day came rather quickly, and Harry slept restlessly on a foldout cot in the Granger's living room. Their home was small, definitely smaller then the Dursleys. It had two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a kitchen; a living room and dining room in the same room, an attic that was small and dusty and filled with bats and a basement filled with old furniture.  
  
Harry woke up to a familiar voice exclaiming: "Harry! Harry, wake up! Guess who's here. . . guess!"  
  
Harry felt two cold hands cover his eyes, an old game, and then a voice said: "Guess who's here."  
  
" Neville!" Harry exclaimed, turning to face the pudgy boy he had known. Neville smiled and nodded. Harry immediately said: "I'm sorry about your grandmother, Neville. I can't believe I won't see you around Hogwarts halls anymore."  
  
" I know." Neville looked down at his feet. " I suppose things change, and sometimes it will be for the better and sometimes for the worse."  
  
" That's quite the wise words, Neville." Harry smiled at him.  
  
" Hermione said we'll be going to the zoo today, you know that? It'll be fabulous, won't it!" Neville's freckled cheeks stretched even more as he burst into an ear-to-ear grin. " Wouldn't it be the greatest? I've been in Muggle zoos before, but I can't wait, anyway!"  
  
" You're such a kid, Neville." Harry swung his feet off the side of the cot and then stretched. " Where's Hermione?"  
  
" She's getting dressed in the bathroom. She'll be out soon." Neville told him. " I sort of came early, at 5 in the morning. My aunts sent me here on a plane - those Muggle things are absolutely awful! I didn't get a wink of sleep."  
  
" I've never been on one." Harry admitted.  
  
" You don't want to be on one." Neville told him.  
  
Harry grinned and then stood. " I guess I should go dress, too. What time is it, anyhow?"  
  
" 5 in the morning, Harry. I told you, that's when I came, I even said specifically."  
  
Harry turned, eyes wide. " You woke me at FIVE? FIVE IN THE MORNING?" Neville's face sunk, and he whispered:  
  
" I'm sorry, Harry, I - -"  
  
" No, don't worry." Harry tried to five him a cheerful grin, and it came out looking a bit lopsided. " I'm used to waking up at five from the Dursleys. Don't worry about it in the least bit." Then, Harry looked around to see which of the closed doors could be Hermione's bedroom.  
  
He finally opened a door, walked in, and then walked right out again realizing it was a closet. Blushing slightly, he found his way into Hermione's bedroom and then quickly changed into his clothes there (his suitcase was in her room, with all his clothing).  
  
When he came out, he ran into Mr. and Mrs. Granger, both looking sleepy and tired. Mr. Granger smiled at Harry and said: "So, is it a wizard tradition, Harry, to wake up at this time of the day?"  
  
" Um . . ." Harry's face burned with a blush. " No, sir. Neville just came early, you see, he's never been on a plane before and he thought it would arrive quickly, like Floo powder . . ."  
  
" Flu what?" Mrs. Granger asked.  
  
" Hermione will explain later, dear." Mr. Granger said to his wife. " By the way, did you run that X-ray into the office yesterday, of Mrs. Smith's teeth? She wanted to have a good X-ray this time."  
  
Harry then watched the Grangers involve themselves in some sort of conversation about Mrs. Smith and how horribly picky she was about things. Harry slowly walked away from them, hands in his pockets, eyes rolling up to the sky. Parents. . . sometimes they were strange . . .  
  
Harry met up with Neville and Hermione (full dressed), at the front door. They all waited until Mr. Granger found his car keys (they were for some reason inside the freezer), and then they all climbed into their new car, a Sedan that the Grangers saved up for. Hermione waved to her mom from the back window of the car as they all sped off towards the zoo.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry and Hermione went ice skating the sixth day of winter vacation. They pulled on their ice skates (Harry could barely stand in them so he crawled towards the ice rink from the skate rental desk, a good five meters), and then they both tried their ice skills on the rink.  
  
Hermione was an expert, to Harry's amazement. She sailed across the ice, her head turning to see if Harry was following. He had just put his left leg on the ice, and with some misfortune, slipped and fell down squarely on his behind.  
  
She laughed and helped him up, and then she linked hands with him. They began skating by the sides, with Harry holding himself up by the glass walls of the rink. By the end of the first ten minutes, Harry had managed to be able to pull away from the wall without slipping. They went slowly, one foot before the other; Hermione whispering instructions in his ear. It wasn't because they were secret instructions, but she found it romantic to whisper into his ear instead of just telling him.  
  
By the end of the hour, Harry was gliding across the ice like a pro, and Hermione was at his side. They both eyed a couple in the middle of the rink, dancing on the ice, their sharp skate blades cutting the ice in an odd dance rhythm, intoxicating and seductive. The woman was rather young, the man a bit older, both looking completely in love. The man broke away from her and approached the ice skate rental desk. He discussed something with the man behind the desk, then motioned at the speakers hanging from the ceiling, which were at the moment blasting an old classic by Chopin.  
  
Slowly, the slow classical music drained away and a fast salsa beat began. Instinctually, Harry's feet moved quicker to the pace, Hermione meeting his moves as if they were made to skate together.  
  
They watched the couple skating, their legs twining, arms joining, heads moving to and fro, a romantic dance that seemed so natural and yet so unique that Harry was compelled to bring Hermione close to himself as well.  
  
She gasped a bit, her body pulled close to his, as Harry slowly began to twirl around her, slowly moving her away, then closer. She laughed. "Harry, what're you doing?"  
  
He winked and then motioned with his head towards the dancing couple. Her lips formed a little 'O' and then she nodded and danced along.  
  
People had gathered, watching the two couples, one young and one older, both dancing as they skated, like professionals.  
  
Harry, of course, stumbled at times, and then he'd blush and look down, black strands of hair falling across his face in embarrassment. Hermione would tilt his chin up with her fingers, smiling reassuringly, and they'd begin again from where they'd left off, as if not a stumble had happened but a dance step in itself.  
  
Suddenly, the salsa music ended, but Harry and Hermione found themselves still dancing. And when they realized that everyone was watching, laughing, they didn't let it alter them. They danced even stronger then before as the next song began.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
The glorious vacation ended, finally, and Harry was sent back to Hogwarts with Hermione, his wand and mind laden with new spells, all dark and powerful. Hermione had also taught him how to cast Avada Kedavra. But, she warned him not to rely on it. Someone like him, who had only known it for two days, would have about a 99% chance of a backfire that would damage the spell-caster more then the one that it was intended to be cast on.  
  
Harry found himself back in the Hogwarts main hallway, staring dumbly around to find old friends. Fred and George spotted him first and then after laughing and hugging they said: "Ron's right over there."  
  
Harry looked to where they motioned and he saw Ron and Lavender. Lavender was under a mistletoe that Ron had put over her head with his hand, and Ron was leaning forwards, kissing her cheek. She was willingly accepting the kiss, and even returned it with more of a force that sent Ron blushing and stumbling backwards.  
  
Harry laughed and told Fred: "I'll talk with him later. He's got something bigger on his hands now."  
  
Fred laughed and nodded, then turned to George. " Hey, George, how about we make McGonagall kiss Dumbledore? Would they go for it?"  
  
"Naw! You're sick, Fred." George replied.  
  
Harry walked away from the madly-laughing twins and then found himself face-to-face with Draco. Draco was standing a bit off to the side of the room, more pale then ever. His eyes were half-closed, the cold irises of his eyes even more frozen and uncaring then always. He looked up at Harry like a deer looks up the pipe of a gun that a hunter pokes to its nose. Then, Draco suddenly exclaimed: "Potter!"  
  
A few people turned in surprise to find Harry and Draco running into an embrace.  
  
A/N: No, no, no! This isn't slash, they're FRIENDS, those of you who thought that way . . .*cough* my Cousin Ela *cough*   
  
Draco pulled back, smiling. "I lived, Potter. Would you believe it?" His lip was cut, badly, but Harry could see that it was nothing horrible.  
  
" I learned Dark Spells." Harry told him, laughing. " We can kick Rebecca's butt now."  
  
He shook his head. " Unbelievable. . . in two weeks? How many?"  
  
" About twenty spells." Harry replied.  
  
" Twenty!" Draco nearly shouted, then dropped his voice: "Hermione taught you, didn't she?" He didn't call her Mudblood, which brought a surprised glance from a few other nearby listeners. Draco looked at them, ices shooting flames, and said: "Hey! Mind your own business!"  
  
The eavesdroppers turned away quickly.  
  
" We'll beat her, Harry."  
  
" We'll?" Harry's eyes raised. " We're a team, finally? Not I'm-in- this-for-my-own-good?"  
  
" A team." Draco shook hands with Harry, then said, his voice barely above a whisper: "I know just where to corner her. Inside her sewing room, at twelve o'clock. That's when she goes there, to take off her shoes and rest from her Rebecca-form."  
  
" How do you know?" Harry asked.  
  
" Because. . . because I spied on her." Draco admitted. He seemed embarrassed. " But I didn't see her in the shower or anything!" He added, nervously. " Just spying during the school day."  
  
" Sure." Harry said, teasingly.  
  
Draco shook his head, blonde hair falling into his face again. "You know, Potter, Ginny said she'd go to the Valentine's Day bash with me."  
  
" She did?" Harry could barely keep his voice down.  
  
Draco nodded, smiling, pleased with himself. " I asked her, sort of in an anonymous note, if she was going with anyone. If not, to meet me at a certain location."  
  
" So you guys met?" Harry laughed. " That's great!"  
  
" I know!" Draco smiled. " My life is actually . . . actually getting better, not worse."  
  
Harry could only grin.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
That evening, they waited in the sewing room. Harry and Draco hid behind the file cabinet in the corner of the room, and they could barely stand waiting. They had only one thing to do - find out who Rebecca morphed into before they'd confront her. Then. . . then it would be so easy!  
  
Harry suddenly heard the hallway clock toll out midnight, and then the soft rumbling sound of the statuette moving aside filled the air.  
  
Draco squeezed Harry's shoulder in fear. Harry could feel Draco's breath coming out in frightened rattles. Draco, who had lived through constant beatings, was frightened.  
  
Finally, Rebecca stepped into the room, her figure dark in the cloak she had wrapped around her shoulders. Harry watched as Rebecca bent over, ready to remove the shoes that bound her feet. Just as she did, Harry suddenly lost his balance. His leg hooked with Draco's, and Draco was suddenly sent forwards, the locket falling from Harry's pocket as it did.  
  
The locket tumbled to Rebecca's feet and she looked at it. Then, she glanced up and saw Draco, lying flat on the floor. Harry, meanwhile, was still cowering behind the cabinet, trying not to cry out in fright.  
  
Draco slowly moved his head up, taking in the sight of Rebecca, and said, softly, nervously, gone stupid from panic:  
  
" Um . . . nice hair."  
  
A/N: I end here, since I'm sleepy and can't write logically any longer. To be continued in chapter 21. Oh and there are only 22 chapters in this fiction, since I am officially tired! I need sleep, sleep . . . sorry, Gary Skinner, it couldn't possibly stretch to April. ^_^ unless I don't upload for 3 months? How about that, people? 


	21. Threads of Logic

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, any of the characters that I didn't make up for myself, and so on and so forth. I will post ch.21 and 22 at the same time so read BOTH before reviewing - since this one is short and weird and it makes sense in 22. Oh and I learned to ice skate in a day, and I stumble a bit but I'm good. Better then my mom who skated since childhood. I guess that's just me.  
  
  
  
1 Chapter 21  
  
Threads of Logic  
  
  
  
Rebecca slowly lifted the locket, and then exclaimed, her accent suddenly gone (for she didn't need to use it now that she was discovered to be a fake, after all): " Ah! Draco, if it isn't my servant, back to see me?"  
  
Harry felt his breath lodge inside his throat. What? Servant?  
  
Draco spat: " I didn't help you for a long time!"  
  
" Oh, but you did! You gave Harry this charmed locket, didn't you? Had him believe it was from his mother, while it was really mine, which I used as a tracking device, so I'd know when he's alone, when to kill him?" Rebecca hissed softly.  
  
" What?" Harry burst out, emerging from behind the cabinet. "Draco?"  
  
" I swear I didn't know, Harry!" Draco cried out.  
  
" Liar! He lies, Potter! He wormed his way into being your friend, while the whole time working for me!" She shouted, her eyes mad.  
  
" That's not true!" Draco cried out, getting up off the floor. He turned to Harry. " It isn't!"  
  
" I trusted you!" Harry hissed in disgust.  
  
" No! Harry. . ." Draco clutched at Harry's shirt. " Listen to me! I didn't . . ."  
  
" Silence, fool!" Rebecca suddenly shot with her wand at Draco. He was blasted off into the corner of the room, where he fell to the floor with a hollow slam.  
  
He looked up, a trickle of blood sliding from his freshly-cut lip: " Harry, don't listen to her! I didn't know the locket was . . ."  
  
" How could you not know? No wonder you gave me that as a gift! You didn't do it out of goodwill, or because you wanted to! You were with her!" Harry pointed at Rebecca. " I should have known - - it says LP, and I just realized! My mother wasn't married! Her initials wouldn't be LP!"  
  
" Ah! You see?" Rebecca hissed, snake-like. " Your so-called friend had been my faithful servant. I told him to give you the locket, and he did." Her eyes suddenly blared red - Voldemort eyes.  
  
" Draco!" Harry turned to Draco, tears stinging his eyes. "How could you? How could you?" His chest ached, he wanted to cry. " I thought you were a friend."  
  
" I didn't have anything to do with her!" Draco shouted. " Not for weeks and weeks!"  
  
" He keeps lying!" Rebecca said, marveling. " So you deny being my servant. Then you shall die as the lying scum you are!"  
  
" No! Harry, on my life, I swear I didn't know!" Draco hollered, blood pouring freely down his chin from his split lip. Harry suddenly felt somewhere deep inside that maybe Draco was right, and he immediately turned to help him up, but before he could, Rebecca said some sort of deep spell.  
  
Rebecca pointed her wand at Draco again. Draco was thrown against the opposite wall. This time, he didn't get up. Harry stared in fright, and he backed away, his body bumping into Rebecca. She grabbed his arm, twisting it back. " Now that I took care of him, I can take care of you!" She pulled him around, throwing him to his knees before her.  
  
" Through my locket I sent you dreams, asking you to join me. Why did you not join me?" She hissed. " Join me!" Her hisses, like a snake, soft and sharp and slimy, filled Harry's ears.  
  
" Join you? Voldemort was asking me to . . ." Harry's eyes widened in fright, suddenly. " No . . ."  
  
" Yes! I am Voldemort! Desperate to have you join me, whether by trick or by folly, and I stuck in this body. I had kept myself alive and strong with the blood and bones of the Whitescale that the scummy Weasley boy so easily provided." Rebecca hissed, her breath rattling inside her. " I hid myself in this DISGUSTING girl form, to keep you unaware. It seems your friend knew, though. He was sharper."  
  
" What're you talking about? I thought you said he was your servant!" Harry whispered, lips draining of color. He turned to the crumpled body of Draco's, lying on the floor, a pool of blood swarming around the crippled body.  
  
" Ah, I only said so to have you be stunned, so you wouldn't protect him while I took care of him." Rebecca snarled, her lips suddenly growing more and more snakelike, thinner and thinner and paler, losing the last touches of feminine beauty. " Now watch as I destroy the rest of you, and I will draw your power! I will be powerful!"  
  
Rebecca raised the wand of hers, pointing it at Harry. "Say goodbye, Harry Potter."  
  
Harry shouted: "No!" He ducked the ray of the spell that shot from the wand, and he then took out his own. He cast the Fainting Charm on Rebecca. She was hit by it, but it didn't affect her.  
  
" You think I could be destroyed by feeble Dark Charms? How amusing, Harry Potter." Rebecca cackled, then raised her own wand. " I will finish what I had started! Avada Kedavra!"  
  
A/N: While Voldemort is hidden in Rebecca's body I will refer to her as Rebecca to avoid confusion.  
  
The spell rocketed from her wand, but missed Harry entirely. The eerie greenish light it let out slowly drifted through the room, then left Harry feeling frightened and stunned, kneeling on the floor. His scar throbbed, the feeling of blood rising to his face that was the most ultimate anger that he ever felt. Harry stood from his knees, quickly, helpless. He turned to Draco, turning Draco around from his spot on the floor so he'd face towards him. Draco's body fell to meet his eyes, and Harry gasped, for a long deep bloody gash stretched across Draco's stomach. The spell Rebecca cast had sent him across the room with such force. . .  
  
" No! Draco!" Harry cried out.  
  
Draco's eyes slowly opened, and he whispered, through dry white lips: " I . . . I didn't . . . I didn't know. . ."  
  
" Oh, I know, I know . . ." Harry whispered, a tear falling from the corner of his eye. It landed onto Draco's cheek, slowly sliding down, loosening the dried trail of blood from his lip. Draco's eyes remained open, his breath a low rattle. " Don't die. . . please, don't. . ."  
  
" Touching." Rebecca hissed, then shouted: " Corpus Mobilitus!" The body of Draco was thrown once more to the other side of the room.  
  
" No!" Harry's voice sounded inhuman, an animal scream of fear and pain. " No!" He watched as Draco's body fell into a heap once again, his blood smeared across the ground. " Oh, God, no . . ."  
  
Harry heard Draco's whisper: " Her shoes . . . take them off. . ."  
  
Harry lunged at Rebecca, wrapping his arms around her legs, struggling to rip off her shoes. Rebecca shouted angrily: "No! No, back off, vermin!"  
  
Harry slowly wrestled the left shoe off. Rebecca's body contorted. She kicked him away, her eyes turning a darker shade of red, expanding, growing frightening and eerie. Her hair was fading away into a baldness on her head. Her skin grew sunken in, her eyes hollow with dark rings under her eyes.  
  
Harry watched in a sudden fright, but he knew what had to be done. In order to face the real thing, he needed to remove both shoes, to keep 'Rebecca' from hiding behind other forms. Harry then ripped off the second shoe, and Rebecca fell to the floor, her body twitching, slowly changing into another form, her real one. Harry backed away, moving towards Draco's body again. "This is all my fault! I'm so sorry!" Harry said with a voice filled with worry to Draco, tearing off his robes and then pressing the cloth to Draco's wound.  
  
The cloth grew saturated with his blood, and Harry then pressed another corner of it down. Draco's hands clenched and he hissed through his teeth: " Harry, it's so cold. . . so cold. . ."  
  
" Draco. . ." Harry felt another tear slide down his cheek. " No! This isn't how it will end." Harry stood, turning to Rebecca's body on the floor. Except now it was Voldemort, in his true and ghastly form.  
  
" So it's true!" Harry exclaimed. " You are - - him. A coward." His body shook with fear at the words he was saying. " A coward to hide behind a young girl's body, using her appearance while doing your evil deeds."  
  
The Dark Lord stood, eyes glowing like frightening red orbs, his face shriveled and frightening, nostrils flaring angrily, just as Harry's dreams showed him. Voldemort reached out: " This is your last chance, Potter! Join me, and I will save your friend! Join me, we will be one! There is no evil, Harry. There is only power!"  
  
Harry shook his head. " No!"  
  
Voldemort was taken aback. The red orbs flashed angrily across Harry's face, and he then cackled out, his voice low, droning: " Harry, think again. You can be so much greater then Dumbledore, then even me! Join me, we will conquer the world! There is no evil . . . only power. . . we are the power!"  
  
" No!" Harry shouted. " No!" He raised his wand, his hand trembling. " Avada Kedavra!" The spell didn't work. His wand glowed, then crackled and died out.  
  
" Fool! You can't cast it yet! But I can!" Voldemort took his wand and said, his voice back to the droning inhuman groan that was filling Harry's mind: "Avada Ked. . ."  
  
" Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry said, and then attempted to pull the wand out of Voldemort's hand with the spell. Voldemort was unaffected by the spell, but it distracted him from the Avada Kedavra death spell.  
  
Harry then thought to himself: 'He had to hide his power in something, something he thought would never be destroyed. But what?'  
  
Suddenly, his eyes fell on the locket. It was in Voldemort's other hand, the sickly and deformed fingers clutching it with a protective hold. "What is it, Potter! You want it . . . you want this locket. . . the one that is the cause for all your trouble this year. . . who will be the cause of your future troubles!"  
  
Harry threw himself onto the Dark Lord, trying to get the locket from his fingers. The Dark Lord hissed a spell out. Harry was pummeled across the room. His body slid into Draco's, and he was covered in his friend's blood. " No . . ." Harry cried out, shooting to his feet again. " I won't let you win! I won't!"  
  
" Touching." Voldemort raised his wand and then said: "Crucio!" The spell was a haunting whisper inside Harry's mind. His eyes closed, he saw images of himself dying, of Draco dying, of Hermione dying. The most painful images . . . his body shook violently, slowly growing to an awful pain.  
  
Harry felt his body fall to the floor, and then rock back and forth. The weight of everything possible, fifty million tons, seemed to press onto him. Suddenly his body felt as if it were ripped apart, being sent into torrents.  
  
" Imperio!" Voldemort suddenly shouted.  
  
" No!" Harry shouted inside his mind, screaming against Voldemort's will. He heard the voice in his head: " Harry . . . join me. . . come closer. . . we will be strong . . ."  
  
" No!" Harry cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks.  
  
" I will bring your parents back . . . I will give you life forever . . . join me, join me. . ."  
  
" No! No, never!" Harry rebelled inside his mind.  
  
" Join me. . ." The voice ordered.  
  
" Join me!" Suddenly, the command hit him, full-force, sending Harry skidding across the floor. He felt his body collapse next to Draco's again. The force of the demand . . . Harry felt himself slowly rising, moving towards Voldemort. . .  
  
" Yes! Join me! Power . . . power to us all!" Voldemort crooned, his evil face splitting in a smile that could have just as well been a grimace - it was so hideous!  
  
" NO!" Harry felt a new power overcome him. He added: " I will never join you!" His hands readied his wand, and he shouted: "Wingardium Leviosa!" The locket inside Voldemort's fingers hovered past Voldemort's sickly, bony thumb, then was pushed deep into the folds of his hand again.  
  
" Foolish to resist. . . in the end it will be just less suffering for you. . ." Voldemort hissed.  
  
" That's a lie! You are nothing! I am not afraid of you!" Harry felt his screams rocket out of himself, growing higher in fear. "I am not afraid of you!" The words weren't his, he felt something inside him, a strength. He felt his parents were with him.  
  
" Do you want to know why I hated your Mudblood friend, Potter . . ." The hiss split through Harry's mind.  
  
" Why?" Harry asked, his breath coming out in a pant, his throat parched. He felt as if he hadn't had a drink of water in years, and his eyes were becoming blurry and unfocused. The only thing moving into existence was the continuous "join me" echoing inside his mind.  
  
" She would have solved this quickly. I was stunned when Malfoy - the only other one in Hogwarts with such sharp a wit - was eager to help you." Voldemort hissed. " Now he lies in his own blood! Cry, Potter, your tears do nothing for you! Cry!"  
  
Harry shouted: " No! Leave me! Leave! I won't join you!" The whispers in his head grew louder, the unforgivable curse commanding his mind and body.  
  
Harry turned to Draco, battling everything. Draco had turned his head, his dying eyes resting on Harry. " The locket! Destroy the locket. . ." He whispered hoarsely. His crushed ribs had pivoted through his lungs. Blood poured from his mouth and nose.  
  
Harry trembled in fright as he turned back to Voldemort: " I will not join you!" Then, he looked at the locket and shouted: "Wingardium Leviosa!"  
  
It tugged from Voldemort's hands, but he caught it, pulling it closer. " My power! You will not destroy me!" Voldemort hissed, his mad cackle rocketing through Harry's mind.  
  
" I will!" Harry shouted back.  
  
" Join me. . . join me. . . join me. . ." The refrain of Voldemort's words was continuously playing through Harry's mind, a broken record stuck on a groove. Harry blinked away the net of tears covering his eyes and shouted: " No . . . no!"  
  
" Join me!" The whisper in his mind grew fiercer. He felt invisible hands, strong and cold, clutching his body, and at the same time, something was pulling him back. He felt a motherly love and warmth from behind him, a fatherly strength and wisdom filling his mind.  
  
He heard echoes of his mother's scream as she died. Then, the echoes faded into "join me".  
  
Thin rivulets of blood twisted across the tiles and then wound around Harry's legs. Draco . . . he was losing blood, and a lot of it. Harry turned to his friend again.  
  
" Draco, hang in there. You'll live. . ." He whispered desperately, knowing that words might keep Draco alive where physical conditions couldn't.  
  
" Imperio!" Voldemort shouted again, frustrated with how Harry was reluctant to join him. Then, the hissing in Harry's mind began again: " Join me . . . join me. . ."  
  
" Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry tried again, this time hoping he'd get to pull the locket out of Voldemort's tightly clutching fingers. " Wingardium . . ." Harry kept repeating the words, the locket sliding a bit upwards, then getting pushed deep into Voldemort's palm once more.  
  
" Join me. . . join me. . ." The whisper echoes inside Harry's mind, and Harry bit down hard onto his tongue, trying to remind himself inside his mind: " No! No! No!"  
  
" Join me, Harry Potter. Join me, we will be strong. Nobody would ever be able to beat us now! Join me. . . join me. . ." The whispers began to take over him, Harry's hands slowly dropping to his sides, his body staggering like a zombie's.  
  
" Wingardium Leviosa. . ." Harry hears a voice, taut and soft and strained with pain. He turned to find Draco lifting his wand, through the blood choking him, whispering: "Wingardium Leviosa." His wand does something else, though. Through his before-death stance, the wand explodes with power, with strength that rockets through the room.  
  
A shining light escapes through the entire dark area, the clock outside tolling something Harry didn't care about, and Voldemort was screaming in pain.  
  
The locket shot out from Voldemort's hand and Draco held it, tightly, in his hand.  
  
Voldemort cackled. " You have it, then. . . destroy that locket and you destroy me. I have put my power in it, and I have given it under disguise to the one who would care for it most."  
  
Harry felt his stomach drop.  
  
" The only way to destroy it is if you die with it as well. If you wish to sacrifice yourself, Draco Malfoy, for Harry Potter - the one who doubted you, the one your father wishes you to hate - then do so now." Voldemort hissed.  
  
" Join me. . . join me, save him . . . join me! There is no evil. . . join me. . ." The words! Those horrible, hissing words!  
  
" Draco . . ." Harry suddenly felt bewildered. Would Draco sacrifice himself for the cause? Would he instead decide to be a coward, and pull out of the case, fearing his death?  
  
Draco held the locket, staring at it, battling in his mind whether he would do it or not.  
  
" Join me. . . join me, and he will live. . . join me now, keep him from dying. . . do you not care for your friend?" The hissing in Harry's ears grew louder, more demanding. Harry cried out: "No! I won't join you!"  
  
His mind overwhelmed, he turned to Voldemort and shouted the Blinding Curse. Voldemort staggered backwards, his eyes slowly sliding into slits. Voldemort's own bare feet staggered over the boots lying on the ground - remnants of Rebecca. Harry squirmed to move away from the Dark Lord as he told Draco, above the howling of the words in his mind: " Destroy it! Do it!"  
  
Despite how it hurt to watch, Harry observed as Draco took the locket and smashed it against the ground. The back piece fluttered aside, revealing the letters 'LP', burning yellow hot as the light pierced through the room. Then, a terrible explosion rocketed the air. Draco was blown aside, Harry tumbled to the ground, and he could barely see as a thick dust covered the area.  
  
" What's going on?" Harry coughed through the black smoke that had slowly begun to settle. Voldemort was gone, completely, and there was nothing left of the locket.  
  
Harry looked around, his breath coming out in a bit of relief, to see if Draco was anywhere near. Then, he saw him - the light-colored hair, fluttered over Draco's forehead, his nostrils flaring in the dust. He opened his mouth to cough but only blood came out.  
  
Harry gasped and then darted amidst the dust clouds and knelt down before the frail, broken form of Draco Malfoy. The other boy looked up, his eyes barely moving, the blueness slowly fading away.  
  
" Draco!" Harry cried out, taking hold of Draco's shoulders, shaking him. " Draco, wake up!"  
  
Draco's eyes opened, barely, then closed again. He whispered: "Did you see that? I did it . . . I did it. . ."  
  
" I saw. . ." Harry felt tears slowly streak down his face. " I'm so sorry that I didn't believe you - I should have known - you wouldn't. . ." Words failed him.  
  
Malfoy slowly raised his hand, his fingers dipping into the bloody, deep gash on his body. He lifted his fingers up to his face, looking at the thick blood that covered them. " I'm dying . . ."  
  
" No! You'll live!" Harry shouted to him. " Come on, I'll pull you out of here, maybe Madame Pomfrey . . ."  
  
" There's nothing you can do." Draco's body convulsed. "Nothing." He smiled to himself. " I did it, Harry. I destroyed Voldemort. It was me. . ."  
  
Another racking cough sent blood out of Draco's mouth. Harry panicked. " We gotta get you out!" Harry said, his voice shaking. " We gotta."  
  
" It's too late." Draco said. " It feels so cold, Harry. Death is so cold. . ." His eyes slowly closed.  
  
"No!" Harry shook Draco again.  
  
Malfoy's head slowly raised and he looked over the demise of his body. " It doesn't hurt, Harry. Don't cry." Draco looked dead already. " I'm ready to die, I was for a long time . . ."  
  
" Don't say that!" Harry cried out. " You can't be ready to die! You're fifteen, how can you . . . you . . ." He stopped as Draco's fingers slowly unclenched. In his palm, he had the remains of the locket - charred, bruised.  
  
" You can have it. Maybe . . . maybe it'll come to some use." Draco suddenly added, after he was able to muster the strength. "Rebecca left it in my house. I should have known." Suddenly he laughed. " You know what's funny?"  
  
" How can you laugh?" Harry asked.  
  
" I died good. I died good." Draco whispered to himself. " I always thought it would be different."  
  
" You didn't die!" Harry said. " Stop saying that." Harry put his hands under Draco's arms, trying to drag him from the room. Draco was always bigger then Harry and it was hard to pull him even a few feet.  
  
" Tell my mother I love her." Draco said, after a while.  
  
" Draco! Stop it!" Harry cried out.  
  
Draco's eyes opened again, the blue irises still of any life. "Potter, you aren't a friend-in-training. You - - you're a real friend."  
  
Harry felt another hot tear roll down his cheek. The dust had settled completely in the room. Draco's eyes closed again. Draco's hands trembled as he brought one up to his stomach again. Then, he whispered: " I don't feel my body, Harry."  
  
The whisper was almost incoherent. Draco's tongue was barely moving in his mouth, his chest no longer raised in breaths. Harry shook Draco's shoulders again. "Draco! Don't do this! You can live! Why don't you believe that you can live? You can live." His voice was crumbling, unreal. The world was hazy through the tears in Harry's eyes.  
  
" It's so cold." Draco's final breath.  
  
Then, his lips drained of color, mouthing the word: 'cold'. Then, he was gone.  
  
Harry felt Draco's hand, for a pulse, for anything. Nothing answered him. There was a stunned silence. Then, Draco's hand slipped from Harry's, a dull echo crossing the room as his fingernails clacked the tiles.  
  
" Did you think it would end this way?" Harry whispered to Draco's lifeless body. The only answer was the echo that swept through the room.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Kneeling in the ashes  
  
Cold, gray, dead, before me  
  
Clutching at what remains  
  
Of your passing life - a tragedy  
  
Now there is nothing  
  
Empty, hollow, silent, inside you  
  
A heart freed of ice lies still  
  
Chilled and cold in the blood it drew  
  
Did you think it would end this way,  
  
Cold and alone, broken, silent?  
  
The answer comes in a howling echo  
  
My sob racks from deep within me  
  
Anonymous  
  
A/N: Gah don't kill me Draco lovers! I like him too! ::shields face with arms:: Remember this isn't the end. Stuff can happen. 


	22. The Snow Globe and Back to the Beginning

1 Chapter 22  
  
2 The Snow Globe  
  
And  
  
Back to the Beginning  
  
  
  
Harry didn't know how long he had been lying in the sewing room, clutching the battered body of Draco, not believing that he is dead, and at the same time wishing that it wasn't true. The body in his hands couldn't be the body of Draco Malfoy!  
  
Finally, someone found him, drawn by the shouts. Harry and Draco were both taken to the hospital wing, but there was nothing more they could do for one of them.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
There was something warm pressing to Harry's lips, parting them. A hot liquid spilled inside, and it took him a while to realize it was chicken soup. His eyes slowly opened, and then focused on the image of Dumbledore before him, sitting quietly in a wooden-backed chair, eyes wise and glazed over with thought.  
  
" Dumbledore?" Harry whispered, his throat hoarse. The hot liquid was being bored down his throat again.  
  
" You have done a great thing, Harry. You and Draco Malfoy have destroyed Voldemort." Dumbledore said, softly. " You need to rest, you are very battered, emotionally and physically."  
  
" How is he?" Harry mumbled, through numb lips, as another gulp of hot chicken soup was poured into his mouth. It soothed him, he had to admit. The salty, warm liquid rolled smoothly down into his stomach and heated his insides up nicely.  
  
" Do you mean Draco?" Dumbledore asked, his wise eyes focusing on Harry, his fingers combing through his white beard as he spoke, a hint of nervousness in his voice.  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
" Madame Pomfrey is trying to stitch him up - he lost a lot of blood, and he's looking awful. We can't let others see him - his body - until he's fixed up."  
  
" Is he dead?" Harry asked, a chill running down his spine.  
  
Dumbledore looked away. " Yes."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
Harry had always doubted miracles, but that night he had a dream. In his dream, he was sitting inside a snow globe. It was empty other then for himself inside of it, and the snow around him was falling. He reached out to taste it, then realized it was made of phoenix tears - healing tears. He wondered what it meant. The swirls of the snowflakes danced around him, and he was lulled with the feeling of comfort that surrounded him in his dream.  
  
When Harry woke up, Hermione was sitting by his bed, crying, her head down in her hands.  
  
" Hermione." Harry said, slowly sitting up.  
  
She looked up, her eyes wet with tears. After greeting him through her tears, she told him: "Oh, Harry, everyone's in a shock. Nobody can speak of anything but of what happened." She put her hands around him, hugging him close. Then, she pulled away, her eyes shimmering.  
  
" Hermione, do you still have the snow globe from Rebecca?" Harry asked. " Or. . . Voldemort, however you call it?"  
  
" Yes, I do." She nodded curtly.  
  
" Bring it to me. I had a dream - it told me that - oh, I'll explain later." Harry said, then hugged her cold fingers inside his hands. " Go bring the snow globe."  
  
" Are you sure?" She asked.  
  
" Yes." Harry replied.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
While Hermione was away, Harry saw a swarm of reporters, and dozens of people from the Ministry, all wanting to speak to him about what had happened. They wanted photos for the front page of the Boy Who Lived, Twice!  
  
Harry himself turned his eyes away from the camera, so they wouldn't see his tears. The real hero was the one who had died - he might have lived, if not for how he destroyed the locket.  
  
An hour passed, or about an hour at least, and Hermione was back, holding the snow globe. The white flakes inside danced cheerily as she placed it on the hospital bed. " Here you go, Harry." She said.  
  
Harry got up, looking inside. His eyes widened - now he saw something inside, a figure of Draco. " Look." Harry exclaimed, pointing inside the globe.  
  
She looked. " Weird! What happened?"  
  
" I think - I think you received this snow globe for a purpose. I think this is the other part of Voldemort's power. He had been fearful, he put his power inside two inanimate objects so even if something were to happen to him physically, he'd still be powerful, his spirit would overtake those who bore the objects." Harry didn't know how he knew this, but all of a sudden nothing made more sense. " Hermione, we have to open the globe! We have to pour the flakes inside onto Draco! Don't you see? It's not normal fake snow, it's the tonic that Voldemort made, to keep himself alive." Harry exclaimed. " He had you hold the snow globe, and me the locket, so . . ."  
  
" Harry, you're babbling. What are you talking about?" Hermione exclaimed.  
  
" Watch." He slowly cracked open the globe. The image of Draco inside was gone, and the 'snow' settled on the base of the glass dome that made up the top of the snow globe. " This . . . this was what Voldemort took in, to keep himself alive. It was made from the Whitescale he stole off of Charlie." Harry suddenly asked: "How is Charlie, anyway?"  
  
Hermione replied: " Ever since what happened, all traces of what Charlie had been going through are gone."  
  
" Incredible." Harry dipped his finger into the powder in the snow globe. " Voldemort knew that if he hid his power, his secrets, into things that his enemies would treasure. . . that they'd be preserved."  
  
" So you're saying that the powder in there can virtually bring people back to life?" Hermione was catching onto Harry's plan.  
  
Suddenly, Harry shot off from his bed, running in his bare feet through the hospital ward. He stumbled, fell down to his knees beside the bed on which Madame Pomfrey was stitching Draco on. Harry stared at the face, the body of his friend that he'd known only a while - truly known, that is.  
  
Then, Harry turned the dome of the snow globe upside down. The white powder sprinkled down into Draco's slightly opened mouth, onto the open wound on Draco's body.  
  
The powder shimmered, glowed, then grew dull again.  
  
" It . . . it didn't work." Harry whispered.  
  
Draco lay before them, lifeless as ever.  
  
Then, slowly, Harry stood up, shaking his head. " I thought. . . I could have sworn. . ."  
  
" I guess you were wrong, Harry." Hermione rested her hand on his shoulder. " Let's go. . . this is too depressing for you, isn't it?"  
  
Harry nodded to himself, then suddenly said: " I wish that I had given Ron's sweater to Draco, instead of saving it for myself. . . I'd worn it, when I went to fight Voldemort, you know?"  
  
" Harry, don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known." Hermione said, softly.  
  
" But. . . I feel so horrible." Harry said. "It feels as if it was my fault. I shouldn't have dragged Draco into this. Just when his life was. . . was going good."  
  
" Harry, don't you dare blame yourself." Hermione simply said.  
  
" Yeah. . . listen to . . . Mudblood . . ." A slow drawling voice filled the air. Two pairs of eyes suddenly darted around.  
  
Draco's eyes had opened.  
  
" It worked!" Harry could only say, shocked beyond belief. " So it was true, Whitescales do heal. . ."  
  
Madame Pomfrey ran into the room, and she stared at Draco, eyes open, living, and she looked ready to pass out. " What is going on here? How - - how is this possible?"  
  
Draco's eyes slowly moved to Harry. " What. . . what happened?" Draco asked. He couldn't remember anything since when he 'died' after all.  
  
" Honey! Honey, don't exert yourself, I'm sure Harry Potter will explain everything. From the very beginning." Madame Pomfrey said, sitting herself down beside Draco. She stared in wonder. " I must tell Dumbledore!"  
  
Then she ran from the room, exclaiming about a miracle.  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
A few weeks passed, February rolled in. Draco Malfoy had been on the verge of the death the whole time, revived only back to life, but not healed at all by the Whitescale powder - from the bones and scales, a mixture of it.  
  
Draco was being slowly healed every day. The best wizard doctors came to work on him, paid by Lucius Malfoy. For once, Lucius was actually a bit proud of his son, at least to the camera of the reporters that swarmed the Malfoy estate now, wishing to have a piece about the 'hero'.  
  
Madame Pomfrey, a busy woman anyhow, still didn't believe what happened. Dumbledore also had a hard time comprehending how it was all possible.  
  
So, one day, a few days before Valentine's Day (Ginny and Draco's day, Harry hoped), there was an assembly of Hogwarts students called.  
  
Everyone waited in awed silence as Harry stepped up to the front of the room, to tell the story, to explain what happened, how it all fit together, and how the mystery was solved. Workers from the Ministry of Magic were invited to listen in as Harry began.  
  
" It all started. . . when I woke up . . . you see . . ."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
"A searing, red-hot pain flashed through Harry's scar, a pain he had never before felt. It had been a similar pain before, but now it was absolutely awful. His eyes flew open, the simple bedroom of his coming into view, the ratty white sheets fluttered off of him as he sat up."  
  
*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*  
  
A/N: Recognize the line? First lines of my story! Yeah that's how it ends, Harry is telling his story again. Now I know, I'm never good at endings, and I'm a sucker for happy ones. The ending was supposed to be tragic and happy and Draco wasn't supposed to live but then I realized that Draco fans would kill me. ^_^ So yeah there it is. Now I'm taking a break, which I sorely need, since my fingers are honestly tired.  
  
P.S. Draco recovers, as you can see, and Charlie is okay, everything somehow came together. This was how I planned to end it since I began, and if you hate the ending then I'm sorry. ::sob:: I hope you liked reading as much as I liked writing this.  
  
P.P.S. this is the first real story I wrote, and my first crack at mystery, and a good mystery requires reading a story again to see what had been missed, what clues. I had mentioned a few times that Rebecca had those black leather shoes with gold shoelaces, for instance, and then also small details like how the locket was counterfeit since it said LP. Yes, it was all on purpose, folks.  
  
P.P.P.S. Draco Malfoy in the story later on records all that happened inside the diary he received from Harry. I thought I'd add that, for the heck of it. 


	23. Author's Final Note

1 Author's Note  
  
  
  
Well I made it to 317 pages, but I can't stretch this any longer. All the clues were there and Harry and Draco were friends and everything was ready. I will most likely not have a sequel but I might rewrite the ending a while later, when the time is good. The ending, I know, is cheesy and weird but that's how I wanted it to be from when I began. I'm glad people read this and liked it, it was a pleasure reading all the reviews.  
  
I'm sorry for all the little mistakes I made, I guess even the best of FanFiction authors will make mistakes, and I don't think of myself even near the best yet.  
  
The one thing that inspired me to write this was the death of my grandfather. The man who ran the store in Hogsmeade (the man with the skin graft) was based on my grandfather. I made the man look and talk like my grandfather would. I bet nobody noticed anything special but that was the reason why I put that man in there.  
  
Writing this was simply easing the pain of the death of my grandfather, which was on Thanksgiving. I dealt with issues of death and how painful it was, in the story, twice. The thing with Hedwig and the one with Draco's almost-death was there for a reason too, you see.  
  
Perhaps my dream to be an author is coming true, since this actually came out beyond my expectations. I am glad for all the support that I had gotten so far, and I am unbelievably thankful for all the reviewers - its absolutely wonderful to know that my story is liked.  
  
Thank you for not a single flame - but a few reviews did come in which people pointed out mistakes, but those aren't flames at all. So far I have 191 reviews and I hope there will be a few more. I'm thrilled with having finished this story, because it was driving me up the wall at times with the pressure to finish chapters. The ending probably came quicker then a lot of people wished for it to come - that I can understand.  
  
It is hard for me to type so much, my eyes grow tired and I get no sleep. Despite how great a stress-reliever this was at times, I need to start studying for school and getting my forty winks. Winter break is almost over and finals are around the corner, and I didn't even touch my books yet.  
  
So, without further ado, I end my thank you letter with a shout-out to everyone who read this: thank you for reading and thank you for reviewing. 2002 will be a much happier year for me, and I hope it will be for others as well.  
  
If the need arises some time later there might be a sequel, but I suppose it's not even in my mind yet. I need a vacation from writing. No wonder J.K. Rowling is taking so long with book 5! What a pressure, to write so much in so little time, and to make it good!  
  
I hope the ending was satisfactory and I know it's a weird ending but I'm only fourteen I can't think of anything better. I wouldn't mind at all if someone told me in their review that they hate my ending, because it's just a person voicing their opinion.  
  
Well, I won't talk too much. Thanks for reading!  
  
Maggie 


End file.
